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Dick o' the Fens; A Tale of the Great Eastern Swamp, by George Manville
Fenn.
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A number of the actors in this tale speak in a broad Lincolnshire
Fenland dialect, which may make it a little hard for some readers. Some
of the more unusual words are annotated in square brackets.
The Squire sees the gradually encroaching bog and marsh in his land, and
realises that with drainage he could reclaim this as good farm land. On
the other hand some of the locals would rather see the fen remain, along
with their various occupations, and the wonderful and fragile wet-land
natural history. When digging begins there are a number of nasty
incidents--torching of houses, malicious woundings of horses and cows,
gunshot wounds to humans, and even murders.
A constable is called in, and takes a dislike to Dick, the Squire's son,
and to his friend Tom. He tries to pin the blame on them. At times
even Dick's father is inclined to think that way, too. But eventually
the culprit is found. There are the tense moments typical of this
author, and you will perhaps learn a lot about fenland natural history.
A good read, and better still to listen to it. NH
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DICK O' THE FENS; A TALE OF THE GREAT EASTERN SWAMP, BY GEORGE MANVILLE
FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN THE FEN.
Dick Winthorpe--christened Richard by order of his father at the Hall--
sat on the top of the big post by the wheelwright's door.
It was not a comfortable seat, and he could only keep his place by
twisting his legs round and holding on; but as there was a spice of
difficulty in the task, Dick chose it, and sat there opposite Tom
Tallington--christened Thomas at the wish of his mother, Farmer
Tallington's wife, of Grimsey, the fen island under the old dyke.
Tom Tallington was seated upon one side of a rough punt, turned up to
keep the rain from filling it, and as he was not obliged to hold on with
his legs he kept swinging them to and fro.
It was not a pleasant place for either of the lads, for in front of them
was a ring of fire where, upon the ground, burned and crackled and fumed
a quantity of short wood, which was replenished from time to time by
Mark Hickathrift, the wheelwright, and his lad Jacob.
At the first glance it seemed as if the wheelwright was amusing himself
by making a round bonfire of scraps, whose blue reek rose in the country
air, and was driven every now and then by the wind over the boys, who
coughed and sneezed and grumbled, but did not attempt to move, for there
was, to them, an interesting feat about to be performed by the
wheelwright--to wit, the fitting of the red-hot roughly-made iron tire
in the wood fire upon the still more roughly-made wheel, which had been
fitted with a few new spokes and a fresh felloe, while Farmer
Tallington's heavy tumbril-cart stood close by, like a cripple supported
on a crutch, waiting for its iron-shod circular limb.
"Come, I say, Mark, stick it on," cried Dick Winthorpe; "we want to go."
"'Tarn't hot enough, my lad," said the great burly wheelwright, rolling
his shirt sleeves a little higher up his brown arms.
"Yes, it is," said Tom Tallington. "You can see it all red. Why don't
you put it on cold, instead of burning the wood?"
"'Cause he can't make one fit, and has to burn it on," said Dick.
The wheelwright chuckled and put on some more wood, which crackled and
roared as the wind came with a rush off the great fen, making the
scattered patches of dry reeds bend and whisper and rustle, and rise and
fall, looking in the distance of the grey, black, solemn expanse like
the waves of the sea on a breezy day.
"Oh! I say, isn't it choky!" cried Tom.
"Thou shouldstna sit that side then," said the wheelwright.
"Hoy, Dave!" shouted Dick Winthorpe. "Hi, there: Chip, Chip, Chip!" he
cried, trying to pat his leg with one hand, the consequence being that
he overbalanced himself and dropped off the post, but only to stay down
and caress a little black-and-white dog, which trotted up wagging its
stump of a tail, and then beginning to growl and snarl, twitching its
ears, as another dog appeared on the scene--a long, lank, rough-haired,
steely-grey fellow, with a pointed nose, which, with his lean flanks,
gave him the aspect of an animal of a vain disposition, who had tried to
look like a greyhound, and failed.
This dog trotted out of the wheelwright's workshop, with his coat full
of shavings and sawdust, and lay down a short distance from the fire,
while the little black-and-white fellow rushed at him, leaped up, and
laid hold of his ear.
"Ha, ha! look at old Grip!" cried Tom Tallington, kicking his heels
together as the big dog gave his ears a shake, and lay down with his
head between his paws, blinking at the fire, while his little assailant
uttered a snarl, which seemed to mean "Oh you coward!" and trotted away
to meet a tall rugged-looking man, who came slouching up, with long
strides, his head bent, his shoulders up, a long heavy gun over his
shoulder, and a bundle of wild-fowl in his left hand, the birds banging
against his leather legging as he walked, and covering it with feathers.
He was a curious, furtive-looking man, with quick, small eyes, a smooth
brown face, and crisp, grizzly hair, surmounted by a roughly-made cap of
fox-skin.
He came straight up to the fire on the windy side, nodded and scowled at
the wheelwright as the latter gave him a friendly smile, and then turned
slowly to the two boys, when his visage relaxed a little, and there was
the dawning of a smile for each.
"What have you got, Dave?" cried Dick, laying hold of the bunch of
birds, and turning them over, so as to examine their heads and feet;
and, without waiting for an answer, he went on--"Three curlews, two
pie-wipes, and a--and a--I say, Tom, what's this?"
Tom Tallington looked eagerly at the straight-billed, long-legged,
black-and-white bird, but shook his head, while Chip, the dog, who had
seated himself with his nose close to the bunch, uttered one short sharp
bark.
"I say, Dave, what's this bird?" said Dick.
The man did not turn his head, but stood staring at the fire, and said,
in a husky voice, what sounded like "Scatcher!"
"Oh!" said Dick; and there was a pause, during which the fire roared,
and the smoke flew over the wheelwright's long, low house at the edge of
the fen. "I say," cried Dick, "you don't set oyster-catchers in the
'coy."
"Yow don't know what you're talking about," growled the man addressed.
"Why, of course he didn't," cried Tom Tallington, a stoutly-built lad of
sixteen or seventeen, very much like his companion Dick, only a little
fairer and plumper in the face. "They ain't swimmers."
"No, of course, not," said Dick. "Kill 'em all at one shot, Dave?"
The man made no answer, but his little dog uttered another short bark as
if in assent.
"Wish I'd been there," said Dick, and the dog barked once more, after
which the new-comer seemed to go off like a piece of machinery, for he
made a sound like the word "kitch," threw the bunch of birds to the
wheelwright, who caught them, and dropped them in through the open
window of the workshop on to his bench, while Dave jerked his gun off
his shoulder, and let the butt fall between his feet.
Just then the wheelwright roared out, with one hand to his cheek:
"Sair--_rah_! Ale. Here you, Jake, go and fetch it."
The short thickset lad of nineteen, who now came from behind the house
with a fagot of wood, threw it down, and went in, to come back in a few
moments with a large brown jug, at the top of which was some froth,
which the wind blew off as the vessel was handed to the wheelwright.
"She's about ready now," said the latter. "You may as well lend a hand,
Dave."
As he spoke, he held out the jug to the donor of the birds, who only
nodded, and said, as if he had gone off again, "Drink;" and propping the
gun up against the crippled cart, he took off his rough jacket and hung
it over the muzzle.
In kindly obedience to the uttered command, the big wheelwright raised
the brown vessel, and took a long draught, while Dave, after hanging up
his jacket, stood and looked on, deeply interested apparently, watching
the action of the drinker's throat as the ale went down.
Jacob, the wheelwright's 'prentice, looked at the ale-jug with one eye
and went on placing a piece of wood here and another there to keep up
the blaze, while Dick went and leaned up against the cart by the gun.
Then the jug was passed, after a deep sigh, to Dave, who also took a
long draught, which made Jacob sigh as he turned to go for some more
wood, when he was checked by a hollow growl from Dave, which came out of
the pot.
But Jacob knew what it meant, and stopped, waiting patiently till Dave
took the brown jug from his lips, and passed it to the apprentice,
letting off the words now:
"Finish it."
Jacob was a most obedient apprentice, so he proceeded to "finish it,"
while the wheelwright and Dave went to the workshop, and as he was
raising the vessel high Tom Tallington stooped, picked up a chip of wood
from a heap, gave Dick a sharp look, and pitched it with so good an aim
that it hit the jug, and before the drinker could lower it, Tom had
hopped back against the cart, striking against the gun, and nearly
knocking it down.
"I see yow, Masr' Dick," said Jacob, grinning; "but yow don't get none.
Ale arn't good for boys."
"Get out!" cried Dick; "why, you're only a boy yourself. 'Prentice,
'prentice!"
"Not good for boys," said Jacob again as he finished the last drop
perseveringly, so that there should be none left; and then went indoors
with the jug.
"Dick--I say," whispered Tom as, after slipping one band into the big
open pocket of the hanging coat, he drew out a well scraped and polished
cow-horn with a cork in the thin end.
Chip, the dog, who was watching, uttered a remonstrant bark, but the
boys paid no heed, being too intent upon the plan that now occurred to
one, and was flashed instantaneously to the other.
"Yes, do," whispered Dick. "How much is there in it?"
"Don't know; can't see."
"Never mind, pitch it in and let's go, only don't run."
"It would be too bad," said Tom, laughing.
"Never mind--we'll buy him some more powder. In with it."
"No," said Tom, hesitating, though the trick was his suggestion.
Dick snatched the powder-horn from his companion, gave a hasty glance at
the workshop, from which came the clink of pincers, and pitched the horn
right into the middle of the blaze.
Chip gave a sharp bark, and dashed after it, but stopped short, growling
as he felt the heat, and then went on barking furiously, while the two
boys walked off toward the rough road as fast as they could, soon to be
beyond the reach of the wheelwright's explosion of anger, for they
regretted not being able to stop and see the blow-up.
"What's your Chip barking at?" said the wheelwright, as the two men
walked out, armed with great iron pincers, the wheelwright holding a
pair in each hand. "What is it, Chip?"
The dog kept on barking furiously, and making little charges at the
fire.
"There's summat there," said Dave in a low harsh voice. "Where's they
boys?"
"Yonder they go," said the wheelwright.
"Then there's summat wrong," said Dave, taking off his fox-skin cap and
scratching his head.
An idea occurred to him, and he ran to his coat.
"Hah!" he ejaculated in a voice that sounded like a saw cutting wood and
coming upon a nail; "keep back, Chip! Here, Chip, boy; Chip! They've
throwed in my powder-horn."
"Eh!" cried the wheelwright.
Pop! went the horn with a feeble report, consequent upon there being
only about a couple of charges of powder left; but it was enough to
scatter the embers in all directions, and for a few moments all stood
staring at the smoking wood in the midst of which lay the great iron
tire, rapidly turning black.
Dave was the first to recover himself.
"Come on," he shouted, and, pincers in hand, he seized the heated ring,
the wheelwright followed suit, the apprentice joined, and lifting the
glowing iron it was soon being hammered into its place round the smoking
wheel, the soft metal bending and yielding, and burning its way till,
amidst the blinding smoke, it was well home and cooling and shrinking,
this part of the business being rapidly concluded by means of buckets of
water brought by Jacob, and passed along the edge of the wheel.
"I say, Tom, it wasn't half a bang," said Dick as the two lads ran
towards home with the wind whistling by their ears.
"No," was the panted-out reply; "but I say, what will old Dave say?"
"I don't care what he says. I shall give him a shilling to buy some
more powder, and he can soon make himself another horn."
CHAPTER TWO.
THE GREAT FEN DRAIN.
"Yes, it's all right, Master Winthorpe," said Farmer Tallington; "but
what will the folks say?"
"Say! What have they got to do with it?" cried Squire Winthorpe. "You
boys don't make so much noise. I can't hear myself speak."
"Do you hear, Tom, howd thy row, or I'll send thee home," said the
farmer; "recollect where you be."
"Yes, father," said, the lad.
"It wasn't Tom; it was me," said Dick quietly.
"Then hold your tongue, sir," cried the squire. "Now look here, Master
Tallington. If a big drain is cut right through the low fen, it will
carry off all the water; and where now there's nothing but peat, we can
get acres and acres of good dry land that will graze beasts or grow
corn."
"Yes, that's fine enough, squire," said Tom's father; "but what will the
fen-men say?"
"I don't care what they say," cried the squire hotly. "There are about
fifty of us, and we're going to do it. Will you join?"
"Hum!" said Tom Tallington's father, taking his long clay-pipe from his
lips and scratching his head with the end. "What about the money?"
"You'll have to be answerable for a hundred pounds, and it means your
own farm worth twice as much, and perhaps a score of acres of good land
for yourself."
"But it can't be good land, squire. There be twenty foot right down o'
black peat, and nowt under that but clay."
"I tell you that when the water's out of it, James Tallington, all that
will be good valuable land. Now, then, will you join the adventurers?"
"Look here, squire, we've known each other twenty year, and I ask thee
as a man, will it be all right?"
"And I tell you, man, that I'm putting all I've got into it. If it were
not right, I wouldn't ask you to join."
"Nay, that you wouldn't, squire," said Farmer Tallington, taking a good
draught from his ale. "I'm saaving a few pounds for that young dog, and
I believe in you. I'll be two hundred, and that means--"
"Twice as much land," said the squire, holding out his hand. "Spoken
like a man, Master Tallington; and if the draining fails, which it can't
do, I'll pay you two hundred myself."
"Nay, thou weant," said Farmer Tallington stoutly. "Nay, squire, I'll
tak' my risk of it, and if it turns out bad, Tom will have to tak' his
chance like his father before him. I had no two hundred or five hundred
pounds to start me."
"Nor I," said the squire.
"May we talk now, father?" said Dick.
"Yes, if you like."
"Then," cried Dick, "I wish you wouldn't do it. Why, it'll spoil all
the fishing and the 'coy, and we shall get no ice for our pattens, and
there'll be no water for the punt, and no wild swans or geese or duck,
and no peat to cut or reeds to slash. Oh, I say, father, don't drain
the fen."
"Why, you ignorant young cub," cried the squire, "do you suppose you are
always to be running over the ice in pattens, and fishing and shooting?"
"Well, no, not always," said Dick, "but--"
"But--get out with your buts, sir. Won't it be better to have solid
land about us instead of marsh, and beef and mutton instead of birds,
and wheat instead of fish?"
"No, I don't think so, father."
"Well, then, sir, I do," said the squire. "I suppose you wouldn't like
the ague driven away?"
"I don't mind, father," said Dick laughing. "I never get it."
"No, but others do, and pains in their joints, and rheumatics. I say,
Tallington, when they get as old as we are, eh?"
"Yes, they'll find out the difference, squire; but do you know, that's
how all the fen-men'll talk."
"Let 'em," said the squire; "we've got leave from the king's magistrates
to do it; and as for the fen-men, because they want to live like frogs
all their lives, is that any reason why honest men shouldn't live like
honest men should. There, fill up your pipe again; and as for the
fen-men, I'll talk to them."
There was a bonny fire in the great open fireplace, for winter was fast
coming on, and the wind that had been rushing across the fen-land and
making the reeds rustle, now howled round the great ivy-clad chimney of
the Hall, and made the flame and smoke eddy in the wide opening, and
threaten every now and then to rush out into the low-ceiled homely room,
whose well-polished oak furniture reflected the light.
The two lads sat listening to the talk of their elders, and after a time
took up the work that had been lying beside them--to wit, some netting;
but before Dick had formed many meshes he stopped to replenish the fire,
taking some awkward-looking pieces of split root which were as red as
mahogany, and placing them upon the top, where they began to blaze with
a brilliant light which told tales of how they were the roots of
turpentine-filled pines, which had been growing in the ancient forest
that existed before the fen; and then taking from a basket half a dozen
dark thick squares of dried peat and placing them round the flaming
embers to keep up the heat.
"I say, Tom," said Dick in a low voice, "I don't think I should care to
live here if the fen was drained."
"No," replied Tom in the same tone, "it would be a miserable place."
"Now, Tom, lad, home!" said the farmer, getting up. "Good-night,
squire!"
"Nay, I won't say good-night yet," cried the squire. "Hats and sticks,
Dick, and we'll walk part of the way home with them."
As they left the glowing room with its cosy fire, and opened the hall
door to gaze out upon the night, the wind swept over the house and
plunged into the clump of pines, which nourished and waved upon the
Toft, as if it would root them up. The house was built upon a rounded
knoll by the side of the embanked winding river, which ran sluggishly
along the edge of the fen; and as the party looked out over the garden
and across the fen upon that November night, they seemed to be ashore in
the midst of a sea of desolation, which spread beneath the night sky
away and away into the gloom.
From the sea, four miles distant, came a low angry roar, which seemed to
rouse the wind to shout and shriek back defiance, as it plunged into the
pines again, and shook and worried them till it passed on with an angry
hiss.
"High-tide, and a big sea yonder," said the squire. "River must be full
up. Hope she won't come over and wash us away."
"Wesh me away, you mean," said Farmer Tallington. "You're all right up
on the Toft. 'Member the big flood, squire?"
"Ay, fifteen years ago, Tallington, when I came down to you in
Hickathrift's duck-punt, and we fetched you and Tom's mother out of the
top window."
"Ay, but it weer a bad time, and it's a good job we don't hev such
floods o' watter now."
"Ay 'tis," said the squire. "My word, but the sea must bite to-night.
Dick here wanted to be a sailor. Better be a farmer a night like this,
eh, Tallington?"
"Deal better at home," was the reply, as the door was closed behind
them, shutting out the warmth and light; and the little party went down
a path leading through the clump of firs which formed a landmark for
miles in the great level fen, and then down the slope on the far side,
and on to the rough road which ran past Farmer Tallington's little
homestead.
The two elder friends went on first, and the lads, who had been together
at Lincoln Grammar-School, hung behind.
To some people a walk of two miles through the fen in the stormy
darkness of the wintry night would have seemed fraught with danger, the
more so that it was along no high-road, but merely a rugged track made
by the horses and tumbrils in use at the Toft and at Tallington's Fen
farm, Grimsey, a track often quite impassable after heavy rains. There
was neither hedge nor ditch to act as guide, no hard white or drab road;
nothing but old usage and instinctive habit kept those who traversed the
way from going off it to right or left into the oozy fen with its black
soft peat, amber-coloured bog water, and patches of bog-moss, green in
summer, creamy white and pink in winter; while here and there amongst
the harder portions, where heath and broom and furze, whose roots were
matted with green and grey coral moss, found congenial soil, were long
holes full of deep clear water--some a few yards across, others long
zigzag channels like water-filled cracks in the earth, and others
forming lanes and ponds and lakes that were of sizes varying from a
quarter of a mile to two or three in circumference.
Woe betide the stranger who attempted the journey in the dark, the track
once missed there was death threatening him on every hand; while his
cries for help would have been unheard as he struggled in the deep black
mire, or swam for life in the clear water to find no hold at the side
but the whispering reeds, from which, with splashings and whistling of
wings, the wild-fowl would rise up, to speed quacking and shrieking
away.
But no thoughts of danger troubled the lads as they trudged on slowly
and moodily, the deep murmur of their elders' voices being heard from
the darkness far ahead.
"Wonder what old Dave said about his powder-flask?" said Tom, suddenly
breaking the silence.
"Don't know and don't care," said Dick gruffly.
There was a pause.
"I should like to have been there and heard Old Hicky," said Tom, again
breaking the silence.
"Yah! He'd only laugh," said Dick. "He likes a bit of fun as well as
we do."
"I should have liked to see the fire fly about."
"So should I, if he'd thought it was Jacob, and given him what he calls
a blob," said Dick; "but it wasn't half a bang."
"Well, I wish now we hadn't done it," said Tom.
"Why?"
"Because Dave will be so savage. Next time we go over to his place
he'll send us back, and then there'll be no more fun at the duck 'coy,
and no netting and shooting."
"Oh, I say, Tom, what a fellow you are! Now is Dave Gittan the man to
look sour at anybody who takes him half a pound of powder? Why, he'll
smile till his mouth's open and his eyes shut, and take us anywhere."
"Well, half a pound of powder will make a difference," said Tom
thoughtfully.
"I'll take him a pound," said Dick magnificently.
"How are you going to get it?"
"How am I going to get it!" said Dick. "Why, let Sam Farles bring it
from Spalding; and I tell you what, I won't give him the pound. I'll
give him half a pound, and you shall give him the other."
"Ah!" cried Tom eagerly; "and I tell you what, Dick--you know that old
lead?"
"What! that they dug up when they made the new cow-house?"
"Yes, give him a lump of that, and we'll help him melt it down some
night, and cast bullets and slugs."
"Seems so nasty. Father said it was part of an old lead coffin that one
of the monks was buried in."
"Well, what does that matter? It was hundreds of years ago. Dave
wouldn't know."
"And if he did he wouldn't mind," said Dick. "All right! we'll take him
the lead to-morrow."
"But you haven't got the powder."
"No, but Hicky goes to Ealand to-morrow, and he can take the money to
the carrier, and we can tell Dave we've sent for it, and he knows he can
believe us, and that'll be all right."
There was another pause, during which the wind shrieked, and far
overhead there came a confused gabbling noise, accompanied by the
whistling of wings, a strange eerie sound in the darkness that would
have startled a stranger. But the boys only stood still and listened.
"There they go, a regular flight!" said Dick. "If Dave hears them won't
he wish he'd got plenty of powder and lead!"
"Think the old monks'll mind?" said Tom.
"What! that flock of wild-geese going over?"
"No-o-o! Our taking the lead."
"Oh! I say, Tom, you are a chap," cried his companion. "I know you
believe in ghosts."
"No, I don't," said Tom stoutly; "but I shouldn't like to live in your
old place all the same."
"What! because it's part of the old monastery?"
"Yes. The old fellows were all killed when the Danes came up the river
in their boats and burned the place."
"Well, father and I aren't Danes, and we didn't kill them. What stuff!"
"No, but it's not nice all the same to live in a place where lots of
people were murdered."
"Tchah! who cares! I don't. It's a capital old place, and you never
dig anywhere without finding something."
"Yes," said Tom solemnly, "something that isn't always nice."
"Well, you do sometimes," said Dick, "but not often. But I wouldn't
leave the old place for thousands of pounds. Why, where would you get
another like it with its old walls, and vaults, and cellars, and thick
walls, and the monks' fish-ponds, and all right up on a high toft with
the river on one side, and the fen for miles on the other. Look at the
fish."
"Yes; it's all capital," said Tom. "I like it ever so; but it is
precious monky."
"Well, so are you! Who cares about its being monky! The old monks were
jolly old chaps, I know."
"How do you know? Sh! what's that?"
"Fox. Listen."
There was a rush, a splash, a loud cackling noise, and then silence save
for the wind.
"He's got him," cried Tom. "I wish we had Hicky's Grip here; he'd make
him scuffle and run."
"Think it was a fox?" said Tom.
"Sure of it; and it was one of those old mallards he has got. Come on.
Why shouldn't the fox have duck for supper as well as other people?"
"Ah, why not?" said Tom. "But how do you know the monks were jolly old
chaps?"
"How do I know! why, weren't they fond of fishing, and didn't they make
my ponds? I say, let's have a try for the big pike to-morrow. I saw
him fly right out of the water day before yesterday, when it rained.
Oh, I say, it is a shame!"
"What's a shame?" said Tom.
"Why, to do all this draining. What's the good of it?"
"To make dry fields."
"But I don't want any more dry fields. Here have I been thinking for
years how nice it would be, when we'd done school to have all the run of
the fen, and do what we liked, netting, and fishing and shooting, and
helping Dave at the 'coy, and John Warren among the rabbits."
"And getting a hare sometimes with Hicky's Grip," put in, Tom.
"Yes; and now all the place is going to be spoiled. I say, are we going
right home with you?"
"I suppose so," said Tom. "There's the light. Old Boggy'll hear us
directly. I thought so. Here he comes."
There was a deep angry bark at a distance, and this sounded nearer, and
was followed by the rustling of feet, ending in a joyous whining and
panting as a great sheep-dog raced up to the boys, and began to leap and
fawn upon them, but only to stop suddenly, stand sniffing the air in the
direction of the old priory, and utter an uneasy whine.
"Hey, boy! what's the matter?" said Tom.
"He smells that fox," said Dick triumphantly. "I say, I wish we'd had
him with us. There! he's got wind of him. I wish it wasn't so dark,
and we'd go back and have a run."
"Have a run! have a swim, you mean," said Tom. "Why, that was in one of
the wettest places between here and your house. I say, how plainly you
can hear the sea!"
"Of course you can, when the wind blows off it," said Dick, as he
listened for a moment to the dull low rushing sound. "Your mother has
put two candles in the window."
"She always does when father's out. She's afraid he might get lost in
the bog."
"So did my mother once; but it made father cross, and he said, next time
he went out she was to tie a bit of thread to his arm, and hold the end,
and then he would be sure to get home all right. Why, there's a
jack-o'-lantern on the road."
"That isn't a jacky-lantern," replied Tom, looking steadfastly first at
the two lights shining out in the distance, and then at a dim kind of
star which seemed to be jerking up and down.
"Tell you it is," said Dick shortly.
"Tell you it isn't," cried Tom. "Jacky-lanterns are never lame. They
never hop up and down like that, but seem to glide here and there like a
honey-bee. It's our Joe come to meet us with the horn lantern. It's
his game leg makes it go up and down."
"Dick!" came from ahead.
"Yes, father," shouted the lad; and they ran on to where the squire and
Farmer Tallington were awaiting them.
"We'll say `good-night' now," said the squire. "Here, Dick, Farmer's
Joe is coming on with the lantern. Shall we let him light us home?"
"Why, we should have to see him home afterwards, father," said Dick
merrily.
"Right, my lad! Good-night, Tallington! You are in for your two
hundred, mind."
"Yes, and may it bring good luck to us!" said the fanner. "Good-night
to both of you!"
"Good-night!"
Dick supplemented his "good-night" with a pat on the head of the great
sheep-dog, which stood staring along the track, and snuffing the wind;
and then he and his father started homeward.
"I shall come over directly after breakfast, Dick," shouted Tom.
"All right!" replied Dick as he looked back, to see that the lantern had
now become stationary, and then it once more began to dance up and down,
while the two lights shone out like tiny stars a few hundred yards away.
"They've got the best of it, Dick," said the squire. "Why, we were
nearly there. Let's make haste or your mother will be uneasy. Phew!
the wind's getting high!"
CHAPTER THREE.
A STORMY NIGHT.
It was a tremendous blast which came sweeping over the sea, and quite
checked the progress of the travellers for the moment, but they pressed
on, seeming to go right through the squall, and trudging along sturdily
towards home.
"I begin to wish someone had put a light in the window for us, Dick,"
said the squire at the end of a few minutes' walking. "It's getting
terribly dark."
Dick said, "Yes," and thought of the thread, but he made no allusion to
it, only laughed to himself and tramped on.
"By the way, how uneasy that dog seemed!" said the squire as they
trudged on with heads bent, for they were facing the blast now.
"Yes, father; we passed a fox."
"Passed a fox! Why, you couldn't see a fox a dark night like this."
"No, but I could smell him, father, and we heard him catch a duck."
"Ah! I see. And did the dog scent out the fox?"
"Yes, I think so, and that made him whine."
"Come along, my lad. Let's get on as fast as we can. It's growing
blacker, and I'm afraid we shall have some rain."
No rain fell, but the sky was completely clouded over and the darkness
seemed to grow more and more intense. The wind kept increasing in
violence and then dying out, as if it came in huge waves which swept
over them and had a great interval between, while as the rush and roar
of the gusts passed there came the deep hoarse murmur of the distant
sea.
"Dick," said the squire suddenly, "you are so young that you can hardly
feel with me, but I want someone to talk to now, and I may as well tell
you that I am going to risk a great deal of money over the draining of
the fen."
"Are you, father?"
"Yes, my lad, and I have been feeling a natural shrinking from the risk.
To-night sweeps all that away, for in spite of having lived here so
many years as I have, I never before felt how needful it all was."
"Do you think so, father?"
"Indeed I do, my lad, for anything more risky than our walk to-night I
hardly know. What's that?"
The squire stopped short and grasped his son's arm, as, after a furious
gust of wind, the distant murmur of the sea seemed to have been
overborne by something different--a confused lapping, trickling, and
rushing noise that seemed to come from all parts at once.
"I don't know, father," said Dick, who was slightly startled by his
father's manner. "Shall we go on?"
"Yes," said the squire hoarsely. "Let's get home quick."
They started on again, walking fast, but at the end of a minute Dick
uttered a cry.
"We're off the road, father. Water!"
As he spoke he was ankle-deep, and in taking a step to catch his son's
arm, Squire Winthorpe felt the water splash up around him.
"Can you see the lights at the Priory, Dick?" he said sharply.
"No, father."
"We can't be off the path," said the squire. "Is it boggy and soft
under you?"
"No, father--hard; but I'm in the water."
"It's hard here too," said the squire, trying the ground with his feet;
"and yet we must be off the road. Stand fast, my boy; don't move."
"Are you going away, father?" said Dick.
"No, only a few yards, boy. I want to see where we got off the track,
whether it's to the right or left."
"It's so dark," said Dick, "I can hardly see my hand. Mind how you go,
father; there are some deep bog-holes about here."
"Then you stand fast, my boy."
"Hadn't you better stand fast too, father?"
"And both perish in the wet and cold, my boy! No. I'll soon find the
road. It must be close by."
Not a tree or post to guide him, nothing but the thick darkness on all
sides, as Squire Winthorpe cautiously moved one foot before the other,
keeping one upon solid ground while he searched about with the other,
and as he moved _splash_--_splish_--_splash_, the water flew, striking
cold to his legs, and sending a chill of dread to his very heart.
"It's very strange," he cried; "but don't be frightened, Dick. We shall
be all right directly."
"I'm not frightened, father," replied the boy. "I'm puzzled."
"And so am I, my lad, for I did not know we could find such solid bottom
off the road. Ah!"
"What's the matter, father?"
"I told you not to move, sir," roared the squire, for he had heard a
slight splash on his right.
"I couldn't help it, father; my foot seemed to slip, and--why, here's
the road!"
"There?" cried the squire eagerly.
"Yes, father, and my foot's slipped down into a big rut."
"Are you sure, boy?"
"Sure! Yes, father, it _is_ the road. I say, what does it mean?"
The answer was a quick splashing sound, as Squire Winthorpe hurried to
his son's side and gripped his arm, to stand there for a few moments
listening and thinking as he realised the meaning of the strange
rushing, plashing noise that came from all round.
"I know," cried Dick suddenly; "the sea-bank's broke, and we're going to
have a flood."
"Yes," said the squire hoarsely; "the bank has gone, my boy."
"Hadn't we better push on, father, before it gets any deeper?"
"Stop a moment, Dick," said the squire, "and let me try to think.
Home's safe, because the Priory's on the Toft; but there's Tallington
and his wife and boy. We must try and help them."
"Come on, then, father!" cried Dick excitedly.
"No, Dick, that will not do; we shall only be shutting ourselves up too
and frightening your mother to death. We must get home and then on to
Hickathrift's. He has a big punt there."
"Yes, father, but it hasn't been mended. I saw it this afternoon."
"Then he has wood, and we must make a raft. Come on. Here: your hand."
For a few minutes there was nothing heard but the rushing of the wind
and the _splash, splash_ of the water, as they pressed on, the squire
cautiously trying to keep one foot by the rut which had guided his son,
and, when it became intangible, seeking for some other means to keep
them from straying from the submerged road in the darkness, and going
off to right or left into the bog.
It was a terrible walk, for they had a full mile to go; and to the
squire's horror, he found that it was not only against the wind but also
against the sharply running water, which was flowing in from the sea and
growing deeper inch by inch.
As if to comfort each other father and son kept on making cheery remarks
apropos of their rough journey. Now it was Dick, who declared that the
water felt warmer than the air; now it was the squire, who laughingly
said that he should believe now in blind men being able to find their
way by the touch.
"For I'm feeling my way along here famously, Dick."
"Yes, father, only it seems such a long way--ugh!"
"What is it, boy?"
"One foot went down deep. Yes, I know where we are."
"Yes, close home, my boy," cried the squire.
"No, no; half a mile away by the sharp turn, father; and I nearly went
right down. We must keep more this way."
The squire drew his breath hard, for he knew his son was right, as the
road proved when they turned almost at right angles and plashed on
through the water.
Half a mile farther to go and the current rushing on! It had been only
over their ankles, now it was above their knees, and both knew that at
this rate it would be waist-deep, if not deeper, before they could reach
the high ground at home.
"It is very horrible, Dick, my lad," cried the squire at last as they
kept on, with the water steadily and surely growing deeper.
"Oh, I don't mind, father! We shall get on so far before it's over our
heads that we shall be able to swim the rest of the way. You can swim,
father?"
"I used to, my lad; perhaps I have not forgotten how. But I am thinking
of the people about. I wonder whether Hickathrift has found it out."
"I dare say he's in bed, father," said Dick.
"That's what I fear, my boy; and then there's John Warren."
"He'll get up the sand-hills, father."
"If he knows in time, my boy; but Dave Gittan has no place to flee to."
"He has his little boat, father; and Chip would warn him if he has gone
to bed. I know what he'd do then."
"What, my lad?"
"Pole himself along to John Warren and fetch him off, and come on to the
Toft."
"Mind, take care, we're going wrong," cried the squire excitedly, as he
slipped and went in right up to his waist, but Dick clung to his hand,
threw himself back, and with a heavy splash the squire managed to regain
the hard road off whose edge he had slipped.
"We must go slower, father," said Dick coolly. "You pull me back if I
go wrong this way and I'll pull you. I say, isn't it getting dark!"
The squire made no answer, but feeling that their case was growing
desperate, and if they did not progress more rapidly they would be in
such deep water before they could reach the Priory that it would be
impossible to keep the track, and they would be swept away, he pushed
on, with the result that in a few minutes Dick had a narrow escape,
slipping right in and coming up panting, to be dragged back, and stand
still quite confused by his total immersion.
"We must get on, Dick, my boy," said his father; "the water's growing
terribly deep, and it presses against us like a torrent. Forward!"
They recommenced their journey, wading on slowly over what seemed to be
an interminable distance; but no sign of the dark village or of the
island-farm in the fen appeared, and at last the water deepened so that
a chilly feeling of despair began slowly to unnerve the squire and set
him thinking that theirs was a hopeless case.
"Be ready, Dick," he whispered, as, after a tremendous puff of wind
which stopped them for the moment, he once more pressed on.
"Ready, father?" panted Dick. "What for?"
"We may have to swim directly. If it gets much deeper we cannot force
our way."
"Oh, we shall do it!" cried the boy; "we must be close there now."
"I fear not," said the squire to himself. "Hold on, boy!" he cried
aloud. "What is it?"
"Water's--up to my--chest," panted Dick; "and it comes so fast here--
it's--it's too strong for me."
"Dick!" cried the squire in agony.
"I must swim, father," cried Dick.
"And be swept away!" cried the squire hoarsely. "Heaven help me! what
shall I do?"
He had gripped his son tightly in his agony, and they stood together for
a few moments, nearly swept off their feet by the swirling current, when
a bright idea flashed across the squire's mind.
"Quick, Dick! don't speak. Climb on my back."
"But, father--"
"Do as I bid you," roared the squire, stooping a little, and bending
down he made of one hand a stirrup for his son's foot, who, the next
moment, was well up on his back.
"That's better, boy," panted the squire. "You are safe, and your weight
steadies me. I can get on now; it can't be far."
As he spoke a light suddenly flashed up a couple of hundred yards ahead,
and gleamed strangely over the water like a blood-red stain.
Then it died out, but flashed up again and increased till there was a
ruddy path of light before them, and behind the glow stood up the trees,
the long, low Priory and the out-buildings, while figures could be seen
moving here and there.
"I know," cried Dick. "I see, father. They've lit a bonfire to show us
which way to go. Ahoy!"
"Ahoy!" came back in a stentorian shout, and something was thrown upon
the fire which dulled it for the moment, but only for it to flash up in
a tremendous blaze, with the sparks and flames of fire rushing towards
them.
"Ahoy!" came the shout again.
"Ahoy!" answered Dick.
"That will do, my boy," panted the squire. "The water's getting
horribly deep, but I can manage now, for I can tell which way to go."
"Little more to the left, father," cried Dick.
"Right, boy!"
"No, no, father," shrieked Dick; "left!"
"I meant you are right, my lad," said the squire, moving on, with the
water growing deeper still, while the stentorian voice kept uttering
cheering shouts to them, which they answered till they were only about
fifty yards away, when it became plain that someone was coming to meet
them, splash, splash, through the water, with a pole in his hand.
The figure, though only head and half his body were visible above the
plashing water, looked large, and for a few moments in his confusion
Dick was puzzled; but he realised who it was at last, and cried:
"Why, it's old Hicky!"
He was right; and just in the veriest time of need the great blacksmith
reached the fainting squire, and grasping his arm breasted the water
with him; and in another minute they were ascending the slope, with the
water shallowing, till they reached a blazing fire, where Mrs Winthorpe
clasped husband and son to her breast!
"All right, wife!" cried the squire. "Glad you are here, Hickathrift!
All your people too?"
"Yes, squire, all safe here; but we're uneasy like about Dave o' the
'Coy and John Warren."
"But they've got the boat," cried Dick.
"Yes; I hope they're safe," said the squire. "Hickathrift, my lad, that
was a brave thought of yours to light that fire. It saved our lives."
"Nay, squire," said the big fellow; "it was no thowt o' mine--it was thy
missus put it into my yead."
The squire gave his wife a look as she stood there in the midst of a
group of shivering farm-servants, and then turned to the wheelwright.
"The boat," he said--"did you come in the boat?"
"Ay, squire. She leaks a deal, but I thrust an owd pillow in the hole.
But I nigh upon lost her. My Grip woke me howling, for we were abed. I
jumped out and ran down, thinking it was the foxes after the chickens,
and walked right into the water. I knowed what it meant, and got over
to the saw-pit, and just caught hold of the boat in the dark as it was
floating away. Then I got my leaping-pole and run her under the window,
and made my missus give me a pillow to stop the leak 'fore I could bale
her out. Then Jacob come, and we got the missus down and poled her
along here, but was nearly swept by."
"You're a good fellow, Hickathrift," cried the squire. "Wife, get out
some hollands; we're perished. Have a glass, my man; and then we must
go in the punt to Grimsey and get the Tallingtons out. We're all right
here, but Grimsey Farm will soon be flooded to the bed-room windows.
Light a lanthorn, some one, and put in a spare candle. You'll go with
me, Hickathrift?"
"Ay, squire, to the end of the world, if thou bids me; but I tell ye--"
He stopped short.
"Well, what, man? Here, drink!"
"Efter yow, squire," said the big fellow sturdily. "I tell ye that no
mortal man, nor no two men, couldn't take that punt across to Grimsey in
the dark to-night. We should be swept no one knows wheer, and do no
good to them as wants the help."
"But we can't leave them to drown, man!" cried the squire.
"No; we can't do that, and we wean't," cried Hickathrift. "They'll get
right on the roof if the bed-rooms gets full; and while we're waiting
for day we'll have the punt hauled up. Jacob'll howd the light, and
I'll see if I can't mend the hole. You've got a hammer and some nails
in the big barn?"
"Yes," said the squire; "yes, you are right, my man--you are right.
Come, Dick: dry clothes."
There was nothing else to be done; and as the bonfire was kept blazing
the punt was hauled up, and in the midst of the howling wind and the
rush of the water Dick stood looking on, his heart full as he thought of
Tom Tallington asking his help away there in the darkness; while tap,
tap, tap went the wheelwright's hammer, after his saw had rasped off a
thin piece of board.
"That'll do it," he cried at last; and the punt was placed ready for
launching when the day showed.
Meanwhile the squire gave orders for the fire to be kept well alight;
and fagots of wood and straw trusses were piled on, with the odds and
ends of broken farming implements and worn-out wooden shedding that had
been the accumulation of years.
The result was that the flames rose high over the wild weird scene,
gilding the wind-tossed pines and staining the flood for far, while
there was so much excitement in thus sitting up and keeping the fire
blazing that it would have been real enjoyment to Dick had he not been
in a constant state of fret and anxiety about his friends.
For, living as he did in that island of good elevated land in the great
wild fen where inhabitants were scarce, everybody was looked upon as an
intimate friend, and half the lad's time was spent at the bottom of the
slope beyond the ruinous walls of the old Priory, watching the water to
see how much higher it had risen, and to gaze out afar and watch for the
coming of boat or punt.
In truth, though, there was only one vessel likely to come, and that was
the flat-bottomed punt belonging to Dave, who worked the duck-decoy far
out in the fen. The people on the sea-bank had a boat; but they were
five miles away at least, and would not venture on such a night.
"What should I do?" thought Dick as he walked down to the edge of the
water again and again. "If Tom is drowned, and Dave, and John Warren,
they may drain the fen as soon as they like, for the place will not be
the same."
The night wore on; and Mrs Winthorpe made the people in turn partake of
a meal, half supper, half breakfast, and, beyond obeying his father's
orders regarding dry clothes, Dick could go no further. He revolted
against food, and, feeling heartsick and enraged against the wheelwright
for eating a tremendous meal, he once more ran down to the water's edge,
to find his father watching a stick or two he had thrust in.
"Tide has turned, Dick," he said quietly; "the water will not rise any
higher."
"And will it all run off now, father?"
The squire shook his head.
"Some will," he replied; "but the fen will be a regular lake till the
sea-bank has been mended. It must have been rough and the tide very
high to beat that down."
"Will it come in again, then?" asked Dick.
"Perhaps: perhaps not. It's a lucky thing that I had no stock down at
the corner field by the fish-stews. If they had not been up here in the
home close, every head must have been drowned."
"Do you think the fish-ponds are covered, father?"
"Five or six feet deep, my boy."
"Then the fish will get out."
"Very likely Dick; but we've something more important to think about
than fish. Hark! what's that?" and he listened.
"Ahoy!" roared Hickathrift from just behind them. "Hear that, squire?"
"Yes, my lad, I heard a cry from off the water."
Just then came another faint hail from a distance.
"That's Dave," said Hickathrift, smiling all over his broad face; "any
one could tell his hail: it's something between a wild-goose cry and the
squeak of a cart-wheel that wants some grease."
The hailing brought out everybody from the house, Mrs Winthorpe's first
inquiry being whether it was the Tallingtons.
"Pitch on a bit more straw, Dick," cried the squire; and the lad seized
a fork and tossed a quantity on the fire, while the wheelwright stirred
up the embers with a pole, the result being that the flames roared up
tremendously, sending out a golden shower of sparks which were swept
away before the wind, fortunately in the opposite direction to the
house, towards which the squire darted one uneasy glance.
"Ahoy!" shouted the wheelwright, and there was a fresh response which
sounded weird and strange, coming as it did from out of the black wall
of darkness seen beyond the ring of ruddy light which gleamed upon the
water.
"They'll get here easily now," said the squire from the very edge of the
flood, as he tossed out a piece of wood, and saw that it was floated
steadily away. "The current is slack."
He could not avoid shuddering as he thought of the way in which it had
pressed upon him as he waded toward the island with Dick upon his back;
but the memory passed away directly as a fresh hail came from off the
water; and as the group looked out anxiously and listened for the splash
of the pole, they at last saw the fire-light shining upon a figure which
gradually came gliding out of the darkness. At first it seemed strange,
and almost ghastly; but in a few more moments those who watched could
see that it was Dave o' the 'Coy in his fox-skin cap standing up in his
little white punt and thrusting it along by means of a long pole, while
a man sat in the stern.
"Yon's John Warren along wi' him," cried Hickathrift. "I thowt they'd
be all right. Come on, lads, clost in here," he shouted; and without
making any reply, the strange-looking man in the bows of the boat pulled
her along till the prow struck upon the flooded grass, and he threw a
rope to the wheelwright.
"Got your gun, Dave?" cried Dick eagerly.
The man turned his head slowly to the speaker, laid the pole across the
boat, which was aground a dozen feet from the dry land, stooped, picked
up his long gun, and uttered a harsh--
"Kitch!"
As he spoke he threw the gun to the wheelwright, who caught it and
passed it to Dick, while the second man handed Dave another gun, which
was sent ashore in the same way. Then, taking up the pole, Dave placed
it a little way before him, and leaped ashore as actively as a boy,
while the second man now advanced to the front, caught the pole as it
was thrown back, and in turn cleared the water and landed upon the dry
ground.
"Glad to see you safe, Dave," said the squire, holding out his hand.
"Glad to see you, too, John Warren. You are heartily welcome."
The two men took the squire's hand in a limp, shrinking manner; and
instead of giving it a hearty grip, lifted it up once, looking at it all
the time as if it were something curious, and then let it fall, and
shuffled aside, giving a furtive kind of nod to every one in turn who
offered a congratulation.
They were the actions of men who led a solitary life among the birds and
four-footed animals of the great wild fen, and to be made the heroes of
an escape seemed to be irksome.
Just then there was a diversion which took off people's attention, and
seemed to place them more at ease. A sharp quick yelp came from the
boat, followed by a bark, and, plainly seen in the fire-light, a couple
of dogs placed their paws on the edge of the little vessel, raised their
heads to the full stretch of their necks, and with cocked-up ears seemed
to ask, "What's to be done with us?"
"Hi! Chip, Chip! Snig, Snig! Come, boys," shouted Dick, patting his
leg; and the dogs barked loudly, but did not stir.
"Come on, you cowards!" cried Dick. "You won't get any wetter than I
did."
"Here!" said Dave; and Chip leaped over and swam ashore, gave himself a
shake, and then performed a joy dance about Dick's legs.
This time there was a dismal howl from the punt, where the second dog
was waiting for permission to land.
"Come on!" said the second man, a frowning, thoughtful-looking fellow of
about fifty, the lower part of whose face was hidden by a thick beard--a
great rarity a hundred years ago--and the other dog leaped into the
water with a tremendous splash, swam ashore, rushed at Chip, and there
was a general worry, half angry, half playful, for a few moments before
the pair settled down close to the fire, as if enjoying its warmth.
"This is a terrible misfortune, Dave," said the squire.
"Ay; the water's out, mester," said the man in a low husky way.
"How did you escape?"
"Escape?" said Dave, taking off his fox-skin cap and rubbing his head.
"Seed the watter coming, and poonted ower to the Warren," said the
second man, thrusting something in his mouth which he took out of a
brass box, and then handing the latter to Dave, who helped himself to a
piece of dark-brown clayey-looking stuff which seemed like a thick paste
made of brown flour and treacle.
"I wish you men would break yourselves of this habit," said the squire.
"You'll be worse for it some day."
"Keeps out the cold and ager, mester," said the second man, thrusting
the box back in his pocket.
"Then you've been waiting at the Warren?"
"Ay, mester. Me an' him waited till we see the fire, and thowt the
house hed kitched, and then we come."
"It was very good of you, my lads," said the squire warmly. "There, get
in, and the mistress will give you some bread and cheese and ale."
"Arn't hungry," growled the second man. "Can'st ta yeat, Dave, man?"
"Ah!" growled Dave, and he slouched round, looking at the ground, and
turned to go. "Gimme mai goon," he added.
"The guns are all right, Dave," cried Dick. "I've got 'em. I say, John
Warren, will the rabbits be all drowned?"
"Drowned, young mester! Nay, not they. Plenty o' room for em up in the
runs where the watter won't come."
"But the foxes, and hares, and things?" cried Dick.
"Them as has got wings is flied awayer," growled the second man; "them
as has got paddles is swimmed; and them as can't find the dry patches is
gone down."
After this oracular utterance John o' the Warren, who took his popular
name from the rabbit homes, to the exclusion of his proper surname of
Searby, tramped heavily after his companion to the Priory kitchen, where
they both worried a certain amount of bread and cheese, and muttered to
one another over some ale, save when Dick spoke to them and told them of
his anxieties, when each man gave him a cheery smile.
"Don't yow fret, lad," said Dave. "Bahds is all reight. They wean't
hoort. Wait till watter goos down a bit and you an' me'll have rare
sport."
"Ay, and rabbuds is all reight too, young mester," added John Warren.
"They knows the gainest way to get up stairs. They're all happed up
warm in their roons, ready to come out as soon as the watter goos down."
"But how did it happen?"
"Happen, lad!" said the two men in a breath.
"Yes; what caused the flood?"
"Oh, I d'n'know," growled Dave slowly. "Happen sea-bank broke to show
folk as fen warn't niver meant to be drained, eh, John Warren?"
"Ay, that's it, lad. Folk talks o' draaning fen, and such blather.
Can't be done."
"I say, John, I don't want the fen drained," whispered Dick.
"Good lad!" growled John Warren; and then Dave shook his head at the
ale-mug, sighed, and drank.
"But don't let father hear what you say, because he won't like it."
"Nay, I sha'n't say nowt," said Dave.
"Nay, nor me neither, only natur's natur, and floods is floods," added
John Warren; and he too shook his head at the ale-mug, and drank.
"Now, then," cried the squire, coming quickly to the door, "Hickathrift
and I are going in the big punt to see if we can help the Tallingtons;
the stream isn't so strong now. Are you men going to try to help us?"
"Get Farmer Tallington out?" said Dave. "Ay, we are coming."
"Let me come too, father," cried Dick.
"No, my lad, I'm afraid I--"
"Don't say that, father; let me go."
"No no, Dick," cried Mrs Winthorpe, entering the kitchen, for she had
been upon the alert. "You have run risks enough to-night."
"Yes; stay and take care of the women, Dick," said his father.
Dick gave an angry stamp on the floor.
"Mother wants me to grow up a coward," he cried. "Oh, mother, it's too
bad!"
"But, Dick, my boy," faltered the poor woman.
"Let the boy come, wife," said the squire quietly; "I'll take care of
him."
"Yes, and I'll take care of father," cried Dick, rushing at his mother
to give her a sounding kiss, and with a sigh she gave way, and followed
the party down to the water's edge.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A JOURNEY BY PUNT.
There was still a furious current running on the far side of the Toft,
as, well provided with lanterns, the two punts pushed off. On the side
where the two last comers landed it had seemed sluggish, for an eddy had
helped them in; but as soon as they were all well out beyond the pines
the stream caught them, the wind helped it, and their task was not to
get towards Grimsey, but to retard their vessels, and mind that they
were not capsized by running upon a pollard willow, whose thin bare
boughs rose up out of the water now and then, like the horrent hair of
some marine monster which had come in with the flood from the sea.
"We've done wrong, Hickathrift," said the squire after they had been
borne along by the current for some distance; "and I don't understand
all this. I thought that when the tide had turned, the water would have
flowed back again through the gap it must have broken, instead of still
sweeping on."
"Ay," said the great wheelwright, who was standing in the bows with his
long leaping-pole in his hand; "I do puzzle, squire. I've been looking
out for a light to show where Grimsey lies, for here, in the dark, it's
watter, watter, watter, and I can't see the big poplar by Tallington's.
Hi! Dave, where's Grimsey, thinks ta?" he shouted.
"Nay, I don't know."
"Can you make it out, John Warren?"
"Nay, lad, I'm 'bout bet."
"Then, squire, if they can't say, I can't. What shall we do?"
"We must wait for daylight," said the squire, after peering into the
darkness ahead for some time. "We shall be swept far past it if we go
on. Can you hold the punt with your pole?"
"Nay, no more'n you could a bull with a bit o' tar band, mester. We mun
keep a sharp look-out for the next tree, and lay hold of the branches
and stop there. D'ye hear, lads?"
"Aye, what is it?" came from the other boat.
"Look out for the next tree, and hing on till daylight."
Dave uttered a grunt, and they floated on and on for nearly a quarter of
an hour before Dick uttered a loud "Look out!"
"I see her, my lad," cried Hickathrift; and he tried to give the boat a
good thrust by means of his pole; but though he touched bottom it was
soft peat, and his pole went down, and the next moment they were
crashing through the top of a willow, with the boat tilting up on one
side and threatening to fill; but just as the water began to pour in,
there was a whishing and crackling noise as it passed over the obstacle
and swung clear, with Hickathrift holding on to a branch with all his
might.
"Look out! Can you tek howd, lad?" came from the other boat, which came
gliding out of the darkness, just clear of the tree.
As it came on, Dick caught the pole Dave held out to him and checked the
progress of the little punt; but he had miscalculated his strength as
opposed to the force of the current, and after a jerk, which seemed to
be tearing his arms out of their sockets, he was being dragged out of
the boat, and half over, when his father seized him round the hips.
"Can you hold on, Dick?" cried the squire.
"A--a little while," panted the lad.
"Get howd o' the pole, mester," shouted Warren from the other boat.
"I can't, man, without loosing the boy. We shall have to let you go."
"Let go, then," growled Dave; "we can find our way somehow."
"Nay," shouted Hickathrift. "Howd hard a minute till I've made fast
here. I'm coming."
As he spoke he was busy holding on to the elastic willow branch with one
hand, while with the other he drew the rope out of the boat's head, and,
with a good deal of labour, managed to pass it round the bough and make
it fast.
"There, she's all right," he cried, stepping aft carefully, the boat
swaying beneath his huge weight. "Now, squire, I mun lean ower thee to
get howd o' the pole. Eh! but it's a long way to reach, and--"
"Mind, man, mind!" cried the squire, "or we shall fill with water; we're
within an inch now."
"Nay, we sha'n't go down," cried Hickathrift, straining right over the
squire and Dick, and sinking the stern of the boat so far that his face
kept touching the water, and he had to wrench his head round to speak.
"There, I've got howd o' the pole, and one leg hooked under the thwart.
Let go, Mester Dick; and you haul him aboard, squire, and get to the
other end."
It needed cautious movement, for the boat was now so low that the water
rushed over; but by exerting his strength the squire dragged Dick away,
and together they relieved the stern of the pressure and crept forward.
"Now Dave, lad, haul alongside, and make your rope fast to the
ring-bolt," cried Hickathrift; and this was done, the punt swung behind,
and the great Saxon-like fellow sat up laughing.
"Is it all safe?" cried the squire.
"Ay, mester, so long as that bough don't part; but I've got my owd ear
full o' watter, and it's a-roonning down my neck. But say, mester, it's
a rum un."
"What is, my lad?"
"Why, it wur ony yesday I wur saying to my Jacob as we'd get the poont
mended, and come out here with the handbills and brattle [lop] all the
willows anywhere nigh, so as to hev a lot to throost down about our
plaace to grow. Now, if we'd done that there'd ha' been no branch to
lay hold on here, and we might ha' gone on to Spalding afore we'd
stopped. Eh, but howding on theer made me keb."
[Keb: pant for breath.]
"Are you hurt, Dick?" said the squire.
"N-no, I don't think I'm hurt, father," replied Dick, hesitatingly;
"only I feel--"
"Well, speak, my lad; don't keep anything back."
"Oh, no, I won't keep anything back, father!" said Dick, laughing; "but
I felt as if I'd been one of those poor fellows in the Tower that they
used to put on the rack--all stretchy like."
"Mak' you grow, Mester Dick," said Hickathrift, "mak' you grow into a
great long chap like me--six foot four."
"I hope not," said the squire, laughing. "Draw the line this side of
the six feet, Dick. There: the stiffness will soon pass off."
They sat talking for a time, but words soon grew few and far between.
The two fen-men swinging in their boat behind had recourse to the brass
box again, each partaking of a rolled-up quid of opium, and afterwards
crouched there in a half drowsy state, careless of their peril, while
the squire and his companions passed their time listening to the rush of
the water and the creaking of the willow bough as it rubbed against the
side of the boat, and wondered, as from time to time the wheelwright
examined the rope and made it more secure, whether the branch would give
way at its intersection with the trunk.
The darkness seemed as if it would never pass, whilst the cold now
became painful; and as he heard Dick's teeth begin to chatter, the
wheelwright exclaimed:
"Look here, young mester, I ain't hot, but there's a lot o' warmth comes
out o' me. You come and sit close up, and you come t'other side,
squire. It'll waarm him."
This was done, and with good effect, for the lad's teeth ceased their
castanet-like action as he sat waiting for the daylight.
No word was spoken by the men in the little punt, and those uttered in
the other grew fewer, as its occupants sat listening to the various
sounds that came from a distance. For the flood had sent the
non-swimming birds wheeling round in the darkness, and every now and
then the whistling of wings was quite startling. The ducks of all kinds
were in a high state of excitement, and passed over in nights or settled
down in the water with a tremendous outcry, while ever and again a
peculiar clanging from high overhead gave warning that the wild-geese
were on the move, either fleeing or attracted by some strange instinct
to the watery waste.
But morning seemed as if it would never come, and it was not until hours
upon hours had passed that there was a cessation of the high wind, and a
faint line of light just over the water, seaward, proclaimed that the
dawn could not be far away.
"Can you see where we are?" said the squire, as it began to grow
lighter.
"Ay, it's plain enough now, mester," was the reply; "and yonder's
Grimsey."
"I can see Tom," said Dick just then; "and there's Farmer Tallington,
and all the rest, right on the top of the roof."
In a few minutes more all was plain enough, and the reason apparent why
the people at Tallington had not shown a light in the course of the
night or done anything else to indicate their position, for it was
evident that they had been driven from below stairs to the floor above,
and from thence to the roof, where they must have sat out the evening
hours, perhaps doubtful of how long the place would last before it was
swept away.
So intent had the squire and Dick been in watching for the dawn, that
the gradual cessation of the flowing water had passed unnoticed; but it
was plain now that the surface of the wide expanse out of which the Toft
rose, with the old Priory buildings a couple of miles away, was now
unruffled by the wind, and that the current had ceased to flow.
But for this the party of rescue in the two punts would not have been
able to reach the inundated farm, for it was only here and there that a
firm place could be found for the poles, which generally sank deeply in
the peat covered by the water to an average depth of about eight feet.
In the course of half an hour the boats were close up to the reed thatch
of the great farm-house, a rope made fast to the chimney-stack, and Mrs
Tallington, the farmer, Tom, a couple of maids and three men were
transferred to the boats, all stiff and helpless with the cold.
"I don't mind now," said Tom, shivering as he spoke. "A boat isn't much
of a thing, but it will float, and all last night it seemed as if the
old house was going to be swept away."
"Are these your horses?" said Dick, pointing to a group of
dejected-looking animals standing knee-deep in company with some cattle,
about a quarter of a mile away.
"Yes, and our cows," replied Tom, shivering. "Oh, I say, don't talk;
I'm so cold and hungry!"
All this time Hickathrift was diligently using the pole in the larger
boat, and Dave leading the way in the other, both being well laden now,
and progressing fairly fast toward the Toft, which stood up like an
island of refuge in the midst of the vast lake, dotted here and there
with the tops of trees. At times the poles touched a good firm tuft of
heath or a patch of gravel, and the boat received a good thrust forward;
at other times, when the bottom was soft, Hickathrift struck the water
with it right and left as he stood up in the prow, using it as a kind of
paddle.
Before they were half-way on their journey the sun came out from a
cloud, just at the edge of the inundation; and with it and the prospect
of warmth and food at the Priory, everybody's spirits began to rise.
"Might have been worse, neighbour," shouted the squire. "You sold all
your sheep last week."
"Ay," said the farmer from Dave's punt; "and we might all have been
drowned. It's a sore piece of business; but it shows a man what his
neighbours are, and I won't murmur, only say as you do, it might have
been worse."
"And thank God for sparing all our lives!" said the squire, taking off
his hat.
"Amen!" said Farmer Tallington, and for a time there was nothing heard
but a sob from Mrs Tallington and the splashing of the poles.
But two boys could not keep silence long with the sun shining and the
place around wearing so novel a guise; and Dick soon burst out with:
"Look, Tom; look at the teal!"
He pointed to a flock forming quite a patch upon the water some hundreds
of yards away.
"Ay," said the squire; "it's good for the wild-fowl, but bad for us.
The sooner the place is drained now, neighbour, the better, eh?"
"Ay, squire, you're right; but how are we to get rid of all this
watter?"
"Ah, we must see," said the squire; and Dave and John Warren exchanged
glances and shook their heads. "The sooner the draining works are
commenced the better."
"Toft Fen wean't niver be drained, mester," said Dave in a low voice, as
he rested his pole in the punt and stood there looking as if he believed
himself to be a prophet.
"Oh, you think so, do you, Dave?" said the squire quietly. "I daresay
hundreds of years ago, before the sea-wall was made, some men said that
no farming could be done in the fen, but the sea has been kept out for
all these years."
"Ay, but it's come through at last in its natural way, mester," said
John Warren.
"Yes, John," said the squire: "but we men who think how to live, make
nature work for us, and don't work for nature. So we're going to turn
the sea off the land again, and drain the fresh water off as well, so as
to turn this wild waste into fertile land. Do you hear, Dick?"
"Yes, father, I hear," said the lad; and he looked at Dave and John
Warren, in whose boat he was, and read incredulity there; and as he
gazed over the inundated fen, and thought of fishing, and shooting, and
boating there, he felt himself thoroughly on the fen-men's side, while,
feeling ashamed of this, he bent over the boat side, scooped up some
water in his hand and drank, but only to exclaim, "Ugh!"
"Ah! what does it taste like, Dick?" said the squire.
"Half salt, father."
"Then it is the sea broke in," said the squire. "Ahoy! all right!" he
shouted, standing up and waving his cap. "Shout, Dick, and let your
mother see you're here. Come, cheer up, Mrs Tallington; there's a warm
welcome for you yonder from the wife; the water will soon go down, and
we're going to try and protect ourselves from such mischief coming
again."
The squire was right; there was a warm welcome waiting for the homeless
neighbours, to whom, after a good, snug, and hearty breakfast,
everything looked very different from what it had seemed during the long
dark stormy watches of the night.
[Wall, in fen-lands, the artificial bank or ridge of clay raised to keep
back river, drain, or sea.]
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE ROMAN BANK.
It was like standing on a very long low narrow island, with the
peculiarity that one side was sea, the other inland lake. The sun shone
brilliantly, and the punt in which the squire, Farmer Tallington, Dave,
Warren, Hickathrift, and the two lads had come was lying on the inner
side of the sandy ridge covered with thin, wiry, harsh grass.
This ridge formed the island upon which they stood, in company with some
sheep and cattle which had instinctively made their way to the high
ground as the water rose.
The tide was down now; a great deal of the water had drained away, and
the party were standing by a great breach in the bank through which at
high-tide during the storm the sea had made its way.
"I can't quite understand how it could have broken through here," said
the squire; "but I suppose it was quite a small crack at first, and the
water soon washed it bigger."
There was a great channel at their feet, cut clean through the
embankment; and though the party were standing amongst the sand, they
could see that the bank which protected the fen from the sea, and ran up
alongside of the river, running inland, was formed of thick clay, matted
with the long roots of the grass.
"Who was it made this great bank, father?" said Dick.
"Your old friends you read about at school, they say, the Romans, first;
but of course it has been added to since. Well, neighbour, we can do no
good by ourselves. We must call together the adventurers, and it can
soon be mended and made stronger than it was at first. Let's go back.
Unless we have a gale, no more water will come through this. It's years
since I've been here. If one had taken a look round one would have seen
the weak spot."
They re-entered the punt, and Hickathrift poled them back, being
relieved in turn by Dave and Warren, by whose solitary cottage they
paused--a mere hut upon a sandy patch, standing like an island out of
the watery waste, and here he elected to stay with the rabbits which
frisked about and showed their cottony tuft tails as they darted down
into their holes.
"How about your cottage, Dave?" said the squire, shading his eyes as he
looked across the flooded fen.
"Wet," said Dave laconically.
"Yes, there are four feet of water yonder, I should say. You will have
to stop at the Toft for the present."
"Not I, mester," said the rough fellow. "I don't mind a drop o'
watter."
"Not to wade through, perhaps, my man; but you can't sleep there."
"Sleep in my boat," said Dave laconically. "Won't be the first time."
"Do as you please," said the squire quietly; and he turned to talk to
Farmer Tallington.
"I say, Dave," whispered Dick, "you're just like an old goose."
"Eh?" said the man with his eyes flashing.
"I mean being able to sleep on the water floating," said Dick, laughing,
and the angry look died out.
It was plain enough that the water had sunk a good deal already, but the
farmers had to face the fact that it would be weeks before the fen was
in its old state, and that if the breach in the sea-wall were not soon
repaired, they might at any time be afflicted with a similar peril.
But notice was sent to those interested, while the farmers here and
there who held the patches of raised land round the borders of the fen
obeyed the summons, and for about a month there was busy work going on
at the sea-wall with spade and basket, clay being brought from pits
beneath the sand upon the sea-shore, carried up to the breach, and
trampled down, till at last, without further mishap, the gap in the
embankment was filled up strongly, and the place declared to be safe.
Of those who toiled hard none showed so well in the front as Dave o' the
'Coy, and John Warren, and the squire was not stinted in his praise one
day toward the end of the task.
"Wuck hard, mester!" said Dave. "Enough to mak' a man wuck. John
Warren here don't want all his rabbits weshed away; and how am I to
manage my 'coy if it's all under watter."
"Ah, how indeed!" said the squire, and he went away; but Dick stayed
behind with Tom Tallington, and sat upon the top of the embankment,
laughing, till the rough fen-man stood resting on his spade.
"Now then, what are yow gimbling [grinning] at, young mester?" he said.
"At yow, Dave," said Dick, imitating his broad speech.
"Then it arn't manners, lad. Thowt you'd been to school up to town
yonder to larn manners both on you?"
"So we did, Dave, and a lot more things," cried Dick. "How to know when
anyone's gammoning."
"Gammoning, lad?" said Dave uneasily.
"Yes, gammoning. You don't want the flood done away with."
"Not want the flood done away wi'!"
"No; and you don't want the fen drained and turned into fields."
"Do yow?" said Dave fiercely, and he took a step nearer to the lad.
"No, of course not," cried Dick. "It would spoil all the fun."
"Hah!" ejaculated Dave, as his yellow face puckered up with a dry smile,
and in a furtive way which fitted with his fox-skin cap he turned and
gave John Warren a peculiar look.
"When may we come over to the 'coy, Dave?"
"When you like, lads. Soon as the watter's down low enough for us to
work it."
"It's sinking fast, Dave," said Tom. "It's all gone from our garden
now, and the rooms are getting dry."
"Ay, but my pipes are covered still, and it'll be a good month, my lads,
'fore we can do any good. But I might ha' took you both out in the punt
for a bit o' shooting if you hadn't played that game on me, and spoiled
my horn and wasted all my powder."
"Ah, it was too bad, Dave; but there are a couple of fine large horns at
home I've saved for you, and we've bought you a pound of powder."
"Nay, I sha'n't believe it till I see 'em," said Dave. "I did mean to
hev asked you lads to come netting, but I can't ask them as plays
tricks."
"Netting! What, the ruffs?"
"Ay, I weer thinking about heving a try for 'em. But I shall give it
up."
"Dave, you promised me a year ago that you'd take us with you some time,
and you never have," cried Dick.
"Nay, did I though?"
"Yes; didn't he, Tom?"
"Nay, yow needn't ask him; he'll be sewer to say yes," said Dave,
grinning.
"Look here," cried Dick, "I'm not going to argue with you, Dave. Are
you going to take us?"
"Some day, lad, when the watter's down, if my live birds aren't all
drownded and my stales [stuffed decoys] spoiled."
"Oh, they won't be!" cried Dick. "When will you go?"
"When the watter's down, my lad."
"It's low enough now. There are plenty of places where you can spread
your nets."
"Ay, but plenty of places don't suit me, my lad. You wait a bit and
we'll see. Get John Warren to tek you ferreting."
"Yes, that will do," cried Tom. "When are you going, John?"
The man addressed shook his head.
"Rabbuds don't want no killing off. Plenty on 'em drownded."
"Why," cried Dick, "it was only the other day you said that none were
hurt by the flood."
"Did I, Mester Dick? Ah, yow mustn't tek no notice o' what I say."
"But we shall take notice of what you say," cried Tom. "I don't believe
he has any ferrets left."
"Ay, bud I hev. Theer I'll tek you, lads. Why don't thou tek 'em wi'
you, Dave, man? Let un see the netting."
Dave smiled in a curious way, and then his eyes twinkled as he looked
from one to the other.
"Well, you wait a week, lads, and then I'll fetch you."
"To see the netting?"
"Ay. In another week there'll be a deal more dry land, and the ruffs
and reeves'll be ower in flocks, I dessay. If they aren't, we'll try
for something else."
"Hooray!" cried Dick; and that evening there was nothing talked of but
the projected trip.
CHAPTER SIX.
THE DEPARTING FLOOD.
The water sank slowly and steadily, leaving dry patches here and there
all over the fen; but the lake-like parts far exceeded the dry land, and
two or three fields still contained so much water that the squire set
men to work to cut a drain to carry it away.
"Kill two birds with one stone, Dick," he said. "It will be useful by
and by."
At the time Dick did not understand what his father meant; but it was
soon evident when all hands were hard at work cutting down through the
peat to make the dyke. For, instead of digging in the ordinary way, the
men carefully cut down through what was not earth, but thick
well-compressed black peat, each piece, about ten inches square and
three or four thick, to be carefully laid up like so much open brickwork
to drain and dry.
Good store for the next winter's fuel, for it was peat of fine quality
stored up by nature ages before, and not the soft brown mossy stuff
found in many places, stuff that burns rapidly away and gives out hardly
any heat. This peat about the Toft was coal's young relative, and
burned slowly into a beautiful creamy ash, giving out a glow of warmth
that was wanted there when the wind blew from the northern sea.
The two lads watched the process with interest--not that it was anything
new, for they had seen it done a hundred times; but they had nothing
else to do that morning, having tired themselves of gazing at the flocks
of birds which passed over to the feeding grounds laid bare by the
sinking water. It had been interesting to watch them, but Dave had not
kept his word about the netting; the decoy had not been worked; and
gunning was reserved for those of elder growth. So that morning, though
the great lakes and canals among the reeds were dotted with birds, the
lads were patiently watching the cutting of the little drain.
Six men were busy, and making steady progress, for the peat cut easily,
the sharp-edged tools going through it like knives, while the leader of
the gang busied himself from time to time by thrusting down a
sharp-pointed iron rod, which always came in contact with sand and
gravel a few feet down.
"No roots, my lad?" said the squire, coming up.
"No, mester," said the labourer. "I don't think--well, now, only think
of that!"
He was thrusting down the iron rod as he spoke, and the point stuck into
something that was not sand or gravel, while upon its being thrust down
again with more force it stuck fast, and required a heavy jerk to drag
it out.
"That seems to be a good one," said the squire, as the lads watched the
process with interest.
"Shall we hev it out, mester?"
"Have it out! Oh, yes!" said the squire; and a couple of hours were
spent widening the drain at that part, so as to give the men room to
work round what was the root of an old tree, just as it had been growing
in the far-distant ages, before the peat began to rise over it to nine
or ten feet in thickness.
It was a long job, and after the great stump had been laid bare, axes
had to be used to divide some of the outlying roots before it was
finally dragged out by the whole force that could be collected by the
hole, and finally lay upon the side.
"Just like the others, Dick. There must have been a tremendous fire
here at one time."
"And burned the whole forest down?"
"Burned the whole of the trees down to the stumps, my lad, and then the
peat gradually formed over the roots, and they've lain there till we
come and dig them out for firewood."
"And they haven't rotted, father, although they have been under the peat
and water all this time."
"No, my boy; the peat is a preservative. Nothing seems to decay under
the peat. Why, you ought to have known that by now."
"I suppose I ought," said Dick rather dolefully, for he was beginning to
wake up to the fact of what an enormous deal there was in the world that
he did not know.
As he spoke, he picked up some of the red chips of the pine-root which
had been sent flying by the strokes of the axe, to find that they were
full of resin, smelling strongly of turpentine.
"Yes, it's full of it," said the squire; "that's one reason why the wood
has kept without rotting. Here you two boys may as well do something
for your bread and butter."
Dick said something to himself answering to nineteenth-century Bother!
and awaited his father's orders.
"You can drag that root up to the yard. Get a rope round it and haul.
Humph, no! it will be too heavy for you alone. Leave it."
"Yes, father," said Dick with a sigh of relief, for it was more pleasant
to stand watching the men cutting the peat and the birds flying over, or
to idle about the place, than to be dragging along a great sodden mass
of pine-root.
"Stop!" cried the squire. "I don't want the men to leave their work.
Go and fetch the ass, and harness him to it. You three donkeys can drag
it up between you."
The boys laughed.
"I'm going up the river bank. Get it done before I get back."
"Yes, father," cried Dick. "Come along, Tom."
The task was now undertaken with alacrity, for there was somehow a
suggestion to both of the lads of something in the nature of fun, in
connection with getting the ass to drag that great root.
The companions ran along by the boggy field toward the farm buildings on
the Toft, to seek out the old grey donkey, who was at that moment
contemplatively munching some hay in a corner of the big yard, in whose
stone walls, were traces of carving and pillar with groin and arch.
Now some people once started the idea that a donkey is a very stupid
animal; and, like many more such theories, that one has been handed down
to posterity, and believed in as a natural history fact, while donkey or
ass has become a term of reproach for those not blessed with too much
brain.
Winthorpe's donkey was by no means a stupid beast, and being thoroughly
imbued with the idea that it was a slave's duty to do as little work as
he possibly could for those who held him in bonds, he made a point of
getting out of the way whenever he scented work upon the wind.
He was a grey old gentleman, whose years were looked upon as tremendous;
and as he stood in the corner of the yard munching hay, he now and then
scratched his head against an elaborately carved stone bracket in the
wall which took the form of a grotesque face.
Then his jaws stopped, and it was evident that he scented something, for
he raised his head slightly. Then he swung one great ear round, and
then brought up the other with a sharp swing till they were both cocked
forward and he listened attentively.
A minute before, and he was a very statue of a donkey, but after a few
moments' attentive listening he suddenly became full of action, and
setting up his tail he trotted round the yard over the rotten peat and
ling that had been cut and tossed in, to be well trampled before mixing
with straw and ploughing into the ground. He changed his pace to a
gallop, and then, still growing more excited, he made straight for the
rough gate so as to escape.
But the gate was fastened, though not so securely but that it entered
into a donkey's brain that he might undo that fastening, as he had often
undone it before, and then deliberately walked off into the fen, where
succulent thistles grew.
This time, however, in spite of the earnest way in which he applied his
teeth, he could not get that fastening undone; and, after striking at it
viciously with his unshod hoof, he reared up, as if to leap over, but
contented himself with resting his fore-legs on the rough top rail, and
looking over at the free land he could not reach; and he was in this
attitude when the two lads came up.
"Hullo, Solomon!" cried Dick. "Poor old fellow, then! Did you know
we'd come for you?"
The donkey uttered a discordant bray which sounded like the blowing
badly of a trumpet of defiance, and backing away, he trotted to the far
end of the yard, and thrust his head into a corner.
"Where's the harness?" said Tom.
"In the stone barn," was the reply; and together the lads fetched the
rough harness of old leather and rope, with an extra piece for fastening
about the root.
"I say, Dick, he won't kick that root to pieces like he did the little
tumbril," said Tom, who for convenience had placed the collar over his
own head.
"Nor yet knock one side off like he did with the sled," replied Dick
with a very vivid recollection of one of Solomon's feats. "Now, then,
open the gate and let's pop the harness on. Stop a minute till I get a
stick."
"Get a thick one," said Tom.
"Pooh! he don't mind a thick stick; he rather likes it. Hicky says it
loosens his skin and makes him feel comfortable. Here, this will do.
Must have a long one because of his heels."
"Oh, I say, Dick, look at the old rascal; he's laughing at us!"
It really seemed as if this were the case, for as the lads entered the
yard Solomon lowered his head still more in its corner, and looked at
them between his legs, baring his gums the while and showing his white
teeth.
"Ah, I'll make him laugh--_gimble_, as old Dave calls it--if he gives us
any of his nonsense! Now, you, sir, come out of that corner. Give me
the collar, Tom."
As Dick relieved his friend of the collar, and held it ready to put over
the donkey's head, though they were at least a dozen yards away, Solomon
began to kick, throwing out his heels with tremendous force and then
stamping with his fore-feet.
"Isn't he a pretty creature, Tom? He grows worse. Father won't sell
him, because, he says, he's an old friend. He has always been my
enemy."
"You always whacked him so," cried Tom.
"No, I didn't; I never touched him till he began it. Of course I wanted
to ride him and make him pull the sled, and you know how he ran after me
and bit me on the back."
"Yes, I know that somebody must have ill-used him first."
"I tell you they didn't. He's always been petted and spoiled. Why,
that day when he kicked me and sent me flying into the straw I'd gone to
give him some carrots."
"But didn't you tickle him or something?"
"No, I tell you. A nasty ungrateful brute! I've given him apples and
turnips and bread; one Christmas I gave him a lump of cake; but no
matter what you do, the worse he is. He's a natural savage, father
says; and it isn't safe to go near him without a stick."
"Well, you've told me all that a dozen times," said Tom maliciously.
"It's only an excuse for ill-using the poor thing."
"Say that again and I'll hit you," cried Dick.
"No, you won't. Here, give me the harness again and I'll put it on,
only keep back with that stick. That's what makes him vicious."
"How clever we are!" cried Dick, handing back the collar. "There: go
and try."
"Ah, I'll show you!" said Tom, taking the collar with its hames and
traces attached, and going up toward the donkey, while Dick stood back,
laughing.
"Take care, Tom; mind he don't bite!"
"He can't bite with his hind-legs, can he?" replied Tom. "I'll mind.
Now, then, old fellow, turn round; I won't hurt you."
Solomon raised his tail to a horizontal position and held it out
stiffly.
"Don't be a stupid," cried Tom; "I want your head, not your tail."
Dick burst into a roar of laughter, but Tom was not going to be beaten.
"You leave off laughing," he said, "and go farther back with that stick.
That's right. Now, then, old boy, come on; turn round then."
_Whack_!
Poor Tom went backwards and came down a couple of yards away in a
sitting position, with the collar in his lap and an astonished look in
his countenance.
"Oh, I am sorry, Tom!" cried Dick, running up. "You, Solomon, I'll half
kill you. Are you hurt, Tom?"
"I don't know yet," said the lad, struggling up.
"Where did he kick you?" cried Dick, full of sympathy now for his
friend.
"He didn't kick me at all," said Tom dolefully. "I was holding the
collar right out and he kicked that, but it hit me bang in the front and
hurt ever so."
"Let me take the harness; I'll get it on him."
"No, I won't," cried Tom viciously. "I will do it now. Here, give me
that stick."
"Why, I thought you said I ill-used him!"
"And I'll ill-use him too," said Tom savagely, "if he doesn't come and
have on his collar. Now, then, you, sir, come here," cried Tom sharply.
By this time the donkey had trotted to another corner of the yard, where
he stood with his heels presented to his pursuers, and as first one and
then the other made a dash at his head he slewed himself round and
kicked out fiercely.
"This is a nice game," cried Dick at last, when they were both getting
hot with the exercise of hunting the animal from corner to corner, and
then leaping backward or sidewise to avoid his heels, "Now, just you
tell me this, who could help walloping such a brute? Hold still will
you!"
But Solomon--a name, by the way, which was given him originally from its
resemblance to "Solemn-un," the latter having been applied to him by
Hickathrift--refused to hold still. In fact he grew more energetic and
playful every minute, cantering round the yard and dodging his pursuers
in a way which would have done credit to a well-bred pony, and the
chances of getting the collar on or bit into his mouth grew more and
more remote.
"I tell you what let's do," cried Dick at last; "I'm not going to run
myself off my legs to please him. I've got it!"
"I wish you'd got the donkey," grumbled Tom. "I don't see any fun in
hunting him and nearly getting kicked over the wall."
"Well, don't be in a hurry," said Dick; "I know how to manage him.
Here, catch hold of this harness. I know."
"You know!" grumbled Tom, whose side was sore from the donkey's kick
upon the collar. "What are you going to do?"
"You shall see," cried Dick, busying himself with the wagon rope he had
brought, and making a loop at one end, and then putting the other
through it, so as to produce an easily running noose.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Tom.
"Hold your noise," whispered Dick; "he's such an artful old wretch I
don't know that he wouldn't understand us. I'm going to make you drive
him round by me, and then I'm going to throw this over his head and
catch him."
"I don't believe you can," cried Tom.
"Well, you'll see. There, that'll do. I'm ready; take the stick and
make a rush at him. That will drive him round near me, and then we'll
try."
Tom laid down the harness, took the stick and made the rush at Solomon.
The latter kicked out his heels and cantered round by Dick, who threw
his noose, but failed to lasso the donkey, who took refuge in another
corner.
"Never mind," cried Dick, gathering up the rope, "I shall do it next
time. Now, then--I'm ready. Drive him back again."
Tom made another rush at the obstinate animal, which cantered off again,
working considerably harder than it would if it had submitted patiently
to being bitted. This time he gave Dick a better chance, and the boy
threw the rope so well that it seemed as if it must go over the
creature's head. But Solomon was too sharp. He shied at the rope and
tossed his head aside; but though he avoided the noose and escaped it so
far, as he plunged he stepped right into it, tightened it round his
fore-legs, and the next instant fell over at one end of the rope,
kicking and plunging as he lay upon his side, while at the other end of
the rope there lay Dick upon his chest. For he had been jerked off his
feet, but held on to the rope in spite of the donkey's struggles.
"I've got him, Tom; come and lay hold," panted Dick as the donkey made a
desperate plunge, got upon his legs, and then fell down again upon the
loose ling and straw, kicking out as if galloping.
This gave Dick time to rise, and, seeing his opportunity, he ran to the
gate and passed the slack rope round, drew it tight, and shouted to Tom
to come and hold on.
Just as Tom caught hold of the rope the donkey rose again and made a
plunge or two, but only to fall once more, slacking the rope to such an
extent that the boys were able to haul in a couple of yards more and
hold on, stretching Solomon's legs out and drawing them so tightly that
he uttered a piteous cry like the beginning of a bray chopped off short.
"Do you give in, then?" cried Dick.
The donkey raised his head slightly and let it fall again, gazing wildly
at his captors, one of whom rushed round, avoided a feeble kick, and sat
down upon the helpless animal's head.
"Now," cried Dick, "we've got him, Tom; and I've a good mind to play the
drum on his old ribs till he begins to sing!"
"Don't hit him when he's down," said Tom. "It isn't English."
"I wasn't going to hit him," said Dick. "He's a prisoner and has given
in. Bring me the bit."
Solomon opened his mouth to utter a bray; but Dick put the stick between
his teeth, and he only uttered a loud sigh.
"Ah! now you're sorry for being such a brute, are you?" cried Dick.
"Come along, Tom."
"I'm coming, only the things have got all mixed," was the reply.
"Give 'em to me," cried Dick. "That's it. Now, then, you sit on his
neck, Tom, and then I'll get up. And look here, you, sir," he added to
the donkey, "you come any more of your games, and I'll knock your head
off!"
Solomon's flanks heaved, but he lay quite still, and did not resent
Tom's rather rough treatment as he bestrode his neck and sat down. On
the contrary, he half-raised his head at his master's command, suffered
the bit to be thrust between his teeth and the head-stall to be buckled
on, after which Tom leaped up.
"Take the rope from about his legs now, Tom," cried Dick.
"Suppose he kicks!"
"He won't kick now," cried Dick. "He'd better! Here, you hold the rein
and I'll take it off."
"No, I'll do it," said Tom sturdily; and going cautiously to work he
unknotted the rope and drew it away, the donkey lying quite motionless.
"Now, then, Sol, get up!" cried Tom.
The donkey drew his legs together, leaped to his feet, shook himself
till his ears seemed to rattle, and uttered a sound like a groan.
"He is beaten now," said Dick. "Come and put on the pad and well go.
That's right; buckle it on."
Tom obeyed, and the rough scrappy harness was fixed in its place, while
Solomon twitched his ears and rolled them round as if trying to pick up
news in any direction.
"He won't kick now, will he?" said Tom.
"Not unless he feels a fly on his back, and then he'll try to kick it
off."
"Why, he couldn't kick a fly off his back if he tried," said Tom.
"No, but he'd try all the same. Look out!--there he goes!"
Tom leaped aside, for the donkey kicked out fiercely for a few moments.
"Why, there are no flies now!" said Tom.
"Must be. Look out!--he's going to kick again!"
The donkey's heels flew out, and Tom made a feint of punching his
companion's head.
"How clever we are!" he cried. "Just as if I didn't see you tickling
him to make him kick!"
"Tickle him!" said Dick laughing. "Why, I wasn't tickling him when he
kicked up in the corner there. But come along or we shall never get
that log up to the yard, and father won't like it. Now, Sol! Open the
gate, Tom."
Tom opened the gate, and with Dick holding the rein the donkey walked
along by his side as meekly as if he had never kicked or shown his teeth
with the intention of biting in his life. The rope was doubled up and
thrown over his back; and when they had gone a few yards Dick, without
pausing, made a bit of a jump and struggled on to the animal's back,
getting himself right aft, as a sailor would say, so that it seemed as
if at any moment he might slip off behind.
But Solomon made no objection; he just twitched and wagged his tail for
a moment or two, and then put it away out of sight. For the donkey
chained, or rather harnessed, became an obedient slave--a very different
creature from the donkey free.
When they reached the dyke where the men were standing delving out the
peat, it was to find a group of three fresh arrivals in the persons of
Hickathrift the wheelwright, Dave, and John Warren, and all in earnest
converse upon some subject.
"Yow may say what yow like," cried Dave, "but fen-land's fen-land, and
meant for the wild birds."
"And rabbuds," put in John Warren.
"Ay, lad, and rabbuds," assented Dave; "and it weer nivver meant to grow
corn and grass. Yow can't do it, and yow'll nivver make fen-land
fields. It's agen natur."
"So it is to ride in a cart or on a sled, lad," said Hickathrift
good-humouredly; "but I make 'em, and folk rides in 'em and carries
things to market."
"Ay, but that's different," said Dave. "Fen-land's fen-land; and you
can't dree-ern that."
"You can't dree-ern that," said John Warren, nodding his head in assent.
"Well, they'll drain these fields, at all events," said Hickathrift.
"Yow can't say they weant do that."
"I say fen-land's fen-land," reiterated Dave, taking off his fox-skin
cap and rubbing his ear viciously; "and it can't be dree-ernt."
"Ah! you two are scarred about your 'coy and your rabbud-warren," cried
Hickathrift good-humouredly. "I wish they'd dree-ern the whole place
and have roads all over it, so as to want carts and wains."
"Nay, they nivver will," said Dave sourly. "Tek to makkin' boats and
punts, mun. Them's best."
"Hullo, Dave!" cried Dick; "how about the ruffs and reeves? You said
you'd take me to the netting."
"Well, haven't I come for you, lad?" said Dave quietly.
"Have you? Oh, Tom, and we've got this old stump to draw away! I can't
go now, Dave."
"There's plenty o' time, lad. I'm not going back yet Hicky's got to put
a bit o' plank in my boat 'fore I go back."
"Come on, Tom, and let's get it done," cried Dick. "Here, give us the
rope."
He took the rope, fastened it to one of the roots, and then joined the
traces together, and tied the rope about them.
After this the donkey was turned so that his head was toward the sharp
slope, leading to the Priory on the Toft, and a start was made. That is
to say, the donkey tightened the traces, stuck his hoofs into the
ground, tugged for a minute without moving the stump, and then gave up.
"Why, Mester Dick, yow'll have to get root on a sled or she weant move."
"Oh, we'll do it directly!" cried Dick. "Here, Tom, you give a good
shove behind. Now, then, pull up!"
Tom thrust with all his might, while Dick dragged at the donkey's
head-stall, and once more, after offering a few objections, Solomon
tightened the traces and rope, and tugged with all his might, but the
root did not move.
"Yow weant move her like that, I tell you, lad," said Hickathrift.
"Won't I!" cried Dick angrily; "but I just will. You Tom, you didn't
half push."
"Shall I give her a throost?" said the wheelwright, smiling.
That smile annoyed Dick, who read in it contempt, when it was only
prompted by good temper.
"We can do it, thank you," cried Dick. "Now, Tom, boy, give it a heave.
Pull up, Solomon."
Tom heaved, but Solomon refused to "pull up;" and after his late
disappointments, and his discovery that the root was heavier than he, it
took a great deal of coaxing to get him to stir. At last, though, just
as Hickathrift was coming up good-temperedly to lend his aid, it seemed
as if the donkey anticipated a tremendous blow from the long staff the
wheelwright carried, for he made a plunge, Dick took tightly hold of the
rein and gave it a drag, and Tom sat down on the great root, to follow
Hickathrift's example and roar with laughter, in which the men who were
delving peat joined, while Dave and John Warren, men who took life in a
very solemn manner, actually smiled.
For Solomon's sudden plunge, joined to Dick's drag at the head-stall,
showed that it was quite time a new fit out of harness was provided,
inasmuch as the old leather gave way in two or three places, and the
donkey, with nothing on but his collar, was off full gallop, feeling
himself a slave no longer, while Dick, after staggering backwards for a
yard or two, came down heavily in a sitting position, and in a very wet
place.
"Yes, it's all very well to laugh," said Dick, getting up and looking
ruefully at the broken bridle and bit which he held in his hand; "but
see how cross father will be."
"And look where old Solomon has gone!" cried Tom. "I say, how are we to
catch him? Ha! ha! ha! Only look!"
Everyone but Dick joined in the laugh, for Solomon was rejoicing in his
liberty, and galloping away toward the fen, shaking his head, and
kicking out his heels; while every now and then he stretched out his
neck, grinned, and bit at the wind, for there was nothing else to bite.
"Nice job we shall have!" grumbled Dick. "Oh, I say, Tom, we are in a
mess."
"Oh, there's nowt the matter, Mester Dick!" said Hickathrift
good-temperedly, as he picked up the broken harness and examined it.
"Why, I could mend all this in less than an hour with some wax-ends and
a brad-awl."
"Yes, but will you, Hicky?"
"Of course I will, my lad. Theer, don't look that how. Go and catch
the Solemn-un, and me, and Dave, and John Warren'll get the root up to
the yard for you."
"Will you, Hicky?" cried the boys joyfully. "Oh, you are a good old
fellow! Come on, Tom, and let's catch Solomon."
The harness was thrust aside by the wheelwright, ready to take home, and
then at a word the two fen-men came forward, and together they rolled
the awkwardly-shaped root over and over toward the farm; while, once
satisfied that the pine-root was on its way, Dick gave his companion a
slap on the shoulder, and moistened his hand to get a better grip of his
stick.
"Get a stick, Tom," he said. "I don't want to drum old Solomon's ribs;
but I'm just in the humour to give it him if he plays any of his
tricks."
That was just what the donkey seemed determined upon. He had been shut
up for a fortnight in the yard, and hardly knew how to contain himself,
as he bounded along in a way he never attempted when he was not free.
There were spots which he knew of where succulent thistles and water
plants grew, and after a long course of dry food he meant to enjoy a
feast.
The boys shouted as they ran, and tried to get ahead; but the more they
shouted the more Solomon kicked up his heels and ran, performing a
series of capers that suggested youth instead of extreme old age.
"We shall never get him," cried Tom as he panted along.
"We must catch him," cried Dick, making a furious rush to head off the
frolicsome animal, which seemed as if he thoroughly enjoyed teasing his
pursuers.
Dick was successful in turning the donkey, but not homeward, and he
stopped short unwillingly as he saw the course taken.
"I say, Dick, isn't it soft out there?"
"Soft! Yes. Mind how you go!"
This advice would have been thrown away upon Solomon, though, had he
comprehended it, the effect might have been beneficial. For, whatever
knowledge the donkey might have possessed about the flood, he did not
realise the fact that since he last tickled his palate with the spinous
thistle--an herb which probably assumed to his throat the flavour that
pepper does to ours--there had been a considerable depth of water over
the fen, and that it was very soft. The result was, that while the lads
stopped short, and then began to pick their way from tussock to tussock,
and heather patch to patch, Solomon blundered on, made a splash here, a
bit of a wallow there, and then a bound, which took him in half-way up
his back; and as he plunged and struck out with fore-legs and heels, he
churned up the soft bog and made it softer, so that he sank in and in,
till only his spine was visible with, at the end, his long neck and
great grey head, upon which the ears were cocked out forward, while an
expression of the most intense astonishment shone out of his eyes.
"Oh, Tom, what shall we do?"
_He-haw_--_he-yaw_--_he-yaw_!
Solomon burst out into the most dismal bray ever heard--a long-drawn
misery-haunted appeal for help, which was prolonged in the most
astounding way till it seemed to be a shrill cry.
"I don't know," responded Tom, wiping the tears out of his eyes.
"Oh, come, I say," said Dick, "it isn't anything to laugh at!"
"I know it isn't," cried Tom; "but I can't help it. I feel as if I must
laugh, and--Ha! ha! ha!"
He burst into a tremendous peal, in which his companion joined, for
anything more comic than the aspect of the "Solemn-un" up to his neck in
the bog it would be hard to conceive.
"Here, this won't do," cried Dick at last, as he too stood wiping his
eyes. "Poor old Sol, we mustn't let you drown. Come on, Tom, and let's
help him out."
How Dick expected that he was going to help the donkey out he did not
say; but he began to pick his way from tuft to tuft, avoiding the soft
places, till he was within twenty feet of the nearly submerged animal,
and then he had to stop or share his fate.
"I say, Tom, I can't get any farther," he cried. "What shall we do?"
"I don't know."
"What a fellow you are!" was the angry reply. "You never do know. Old
Sol will be drowned if we don't look sharp. The bog is twenty feet deep
here."
"Can't he swim out?"
"Can't you swim out!" cried Dick. "What's the good of talking like
that? You couldn't swim if you were up to the neck in sand."
"But he isn't up to his neck in sand."
"But he's up to his neck in bog, and it's all the same."
"Ahoy! what's matter?" came from a couple of hundred yards away; and the
lads turned, to see that it was Hickathrift shouting, he and the others
having just succeeded in taking up the root to its destination.
"Ahoy! Bring the rope," shouted Dick.
"He-haw--haw--haw--haw!" shouted the Solemn one dismally, as if to
emphasise his young master's order.
"Why, how came he in there?" cried Hickathrift, trotting up with the
rope, but picking his way carefully, for the peat shook beneath his
feet.
"He went in himself," cried Dick. "Oh, do get him out before he sinks!
Make a noose, and let's throw it over his head."
"We shall pull his head right off if we do," said Hickathrift, but
busily making the noose the while.
"Oh, no, I don't believe you would!" cried Tom. "He has got an awfully
strong neck."
"It won't hurt him," said Dave, who came up slowly with the rest.
"Well, there's no getting it under him," said the wheelwright; "he'd
kick us to pieces if we tried."
"I'll try," said Dick eagerly.
"Nay, I weant let you," said Hickathrift. "I'll go my sen."
"It weant bear thee, neighbour," said John Warren warningly.
"Eh? wean't it? Well, I can but try, mun. Let's see."
The good-natured wheelwright went cautiously towards where Dick was
standing waiting for the rope; but at the third step he was up to his
middle and had to scramble out and back as fast as he could.
"I'm too heavy," he said; "but I'll try again. All right, I'm coming
soon!" he added as the donkey uttered another dismal bray.
But his efforts were vain. Each time he tried he sank in, and at last,
giving up to what was forced upon him as an impossibility, he coiled up
the rope to throw.
"Thou mun heave it over his head, my lad. Don't go no nigher to him; it
isn't safe."
He threw the rope, and Dick caught the end and recoiled it preparatory
to making a start over the moss.
"Nay, nay, stop!" shouted Hickathrift.
"I must go and try if I can't put it round him, Hicky," cried Dick.
"Come back, thou'lt drownd thysen," shouted Dave excitedly.
"No, I won't," said Dick; and picking his steps with the greatest care,
he succeeded in stepping within ten yards of the donkey, which made a
desperate struggle now to get out and reach him, but without success;
all he did was to change his position, his hind-quarters going down
lower, while his fore-legs struck out into the daylight once or twice in
his hard fight for liberty.
"Now, my lad, heave the rope over his head, and we'll haul him out,"
cried Hickathrift.
But Dick paid no heed. He saw in imagination the poor animal strangled
by the noose; and with the idea that he could somehow get alongside, he
struck out to the left, but had to give up, for the bog was more fluid
there.
On the other side it was even worse, and Dick was about to turn and
shout to the men to try if they could not get the punt up alongside,
when a fresh struggle from Solomon plainly showed him that the animal
must be rescued at once or all would be over.
Dick made one more trial to get nearer, in spite of the cries and
adjurations of those upon the firmer ground; but it was useless, and
struggling to a tuft of dry reed, he balanced himself there and gathered
up the rope, so as to try and throw the loop over the donkey's head.
As he held it ready there was another miserable bray, and the lad
hesitated.
"It means killing him," he muttered. "Poor old Solomon! I never liked
him, but we've had so many runs together."
His hand dropped to his side with the rope, and he tottered, for the
reed tuft seemed to be sinking.
Solomon brayed again and fought desperately to free himself, but sank
lower.
"Heave, Dick, heave!" shouted Tom.
"Throw it over, my lad! throw it over, or thou'lt be too late!" cried
the wheelwright; but Dick did not move. His eyes were fixed upon the
donkey's head, but his thoughts were far back in the past, in sunny days
when he had been riding by the edge of the fen to the town, or down to
the firm sand by the sea, where Solomon always managed to throw him and
then gallop off. Then there were the wintry times, when the donkey's
hoofs used to patter so loudly over the frozen ground, while now--
Perhaps it was very childish, for Dick was a strongly built lad of
sixteen, and had his memory served him truly it would have reminded him
of that terrible kick in the leg which lamed him for a month--of the
black-and-yellow bruise upon his arm made by the vicious animal's jaws
one day when he bit fiercely--of that day when he was pitched over
Solomon's head into the black bog ditch, and had to swim out--of a dozen
mishaps and injuries received from the obstinate beast. But Dick
thought of none of these, only of the pleasant days he had had with the
animal he had known ever since he could run; and, whether it were
childish or not, the tears rose and dimmed his eyes as he stood there
gazing at what seemed to be the animal's dying struggles, and thinking
that it would be kinder to let him drown than to strangle him, as he
felt sure they would.
"Why don't you throw, Dick?" cried Tom again in an excited yell that was
half drowned by Solomon's discordant bray, though it was growing more
feeble as the struggles were certainly more weak.
All at once Dick started and his eyes grew more clear. It was not at
the warning shout of the wheelwright, nor the yell uttered by the other
men, but at the action of the sufferer in the bog. For, feeling himself
surely and certainly sinking lower, the donkey made one more tremendous
effort, extricating his fore-legs and beating the fluid peat with them
till it grew thinner, and with neck outstretched and mouth open it sank
more and more back, till head and legs only could be seen.
Dick did it unconsciously. His eyes were fixed upon the struggling
beast, but his ears were deaf to the shouts behind him. All he heard
was the dismal bray enfeebled to a groan so full of despair that the lad
threw the rope, and in throwing lost his balance, fell, and the next
moment was struggling in the mire.
He tried to rise, but it was impossible, and as he fought and struggled
for a few moments it was to find that the bog was growing thinner and
that the patches about him, which looked firm, were beginning to sink.
Was he too going to drown? he asked himself, and something of the
sensation he had felt on the night of the flood came over him.
Then he felt a snatch, and a voice like thunder brought him to himself.
"Howd tight, lad!"
The next moment Dick felt himself gliding over the soft bog, and
directly after Dave had hold of one of his hands and drew him to a place
of safety before running back to the rope.
"All together, lads! Haul!"
There was a shout and a tremendous splashing, and Dick Winthorpe
struggled to his feet, wiping the black fluid bog from his eyes, to see
Solomon hauled right out, slowly at first, then faster and faster, till
he was literally run over the slippery surface to where there was firm
ground.
"I got it over his head, then?" said Dick huskily.
"Ay, lad, and over his legs too," cried Hickathrift, as he bent down and
loosened the noose. "Eh, bud it's tight. That's it!"
He dragged the rope off, and the donkey lay perfectly motionless for a
few moments, but not with his eyes closed, for he seemed to be glowering
round.
"Is he dying, Hicky?" said Dick.
"Nay, lad; yow can't kill an ass so easy. Seems aw reight. There!"
The last word was uttered as the donkey suddenly struggled up, gave
himself a tremendous shake, till his ears rattled again as the bog water
flew; and then stretching out his neck as if he were about to bray, he
bared his teeth and made a fierce run at the wheelwright.
But Hickathrift struck at him with the rope, and to avoid that, Solomon
worked round, made a bite at Dick, which took effect on his wet coat,
tearing a piece right out. Then he swerved round like lightning and
threw out his heels at Tom, tossed up his head, and then cantered off,
braying as he went, as if nothing had been the matter, and making
straight for the yard.
"Well, of all the ungrateful brutes!" cried Tom.
"Ay, we might just as well hev let him get smothered," said the
wheelwright, joining in the laughter of the others. "Didn't hurt you,
did he, Mester Dick?"
"No, Hicky. Only tore my coat," replied Dick, turning reluctantly up to
the house, for he was wet and now felt cold.
"I say, Dick, what about the netting?" cried Tom.
The lad looked piteously at Dave and his companion of the rabbit
warren--two inseparable friends--and felt that his chance of seeing the
ruffs and reeves captured was very small.
"Are you going--to-day, Dave?" he faltered.
"Nay, lad," said Dave dryly, "yow've had enough o' the bog for one day.
Go and dry thysen. I'll coom and fetch thee to-morrow."
So the lads went up to the house, the men returned to their draining,
and the wheelwright walked slowly away with Dave and John Warren.
"Let's run, Dick," said Tom, who was carrying the rope; "then you won't
catch cold."
"Oh, I sha'n't hurt," said Dick, running all the same; and in passing
the yard they closed the gate, for Solomon was safe inside; but as they
reached the house, where Mrs Winthorpe stood staring aghast at her
son's plight, Solomon burst forth with another dismal, loud complaining:
"_He-haw_!"
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE FEN-MAN'S WAGES.
Dave did not keep his promise the next day, nor the next; but Dick
Winthorpe had his attention taken up by other matters, for a party of
men arrived and stopped with their leaders at the Toft, where they were
refreshed with ale and bread and cheese, previous to continuing their
journey down to the seaside.
The squire and Farmer Tallington accompanied them down to their
quarters, which were to be at a disused farm-house close to the mouth of
the little river; and incidentally Dick learned that this was the first
party of labourers who were to cut the new lode or drain from near the
river mouth right across the fen; that there was to be a lock with gates
at the river end, to let the drain-water out at low tide, and that the
banks of the drain were to be raised so as to protect the land at the
sides from being flooded.
Fen people from far and wide collected to see the gang, and to watch the
surveyors, who, with measuring chain and staves and instruments, busied
themselves marking out the direction in which the men were to cut; and
these fen people shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, while
more than once, when Squire Winthorpe addressed one or the other, Dick
noticed that they were always surly, and that some turned away without
making any answer.
"Never mind, Dick," said the squire laughing. "Some day when we've
given them smiling pastures and corn-fields, instead of water and bog
and ague, they will be ashamed of themselves."
"But--"
"Well, but what, sir?" said the squire as the lad hesitated.
"I was only going to say, father, isn't it a pity to spoil the fen?"
The squire did not answer for a few moments, but stood frowning. The
severe look passed off directly though, and he smiled.
"Dick," he said gravely, "all those years at a good school, to come back
as full of ignorance and prejudice as the fen-men! Shame!"
He walked away, leaving Dick with his companion Tom Tallington.
"I say," said the latter, "you caught it."
"Well, I can't help it," said Dick, who felt irritated and ashamed. "It
does seem a pity to spoil all the beautiful pools and fishing places,
and instead of having beds of reeds full of birds, for there to be
nothing but fields and a great ugly drain. Why, the flowers, and
butterflies, and nesting places will all be swept away. What do we care
for fields of corn!"
"My father cares for them, and he says it will be the making of this
part of the country."
"Unmaking, he means," said Dick; and they went on to watch the
proceedings of the strange men who had come--big, strong,
good-tempered-looking fellows, armed with sharp cutting spades, and for
whose use the lads found that a brig had come into the little river, and
was landing barrows, planks, and baskets, with a variety of other
articles to be used in the making of the drain.
"I'm afraid we shall have some trouble over this business, Tallington,"
said the squire as they went back.
"Well, we sha'n't be the only sufferers," said the farmer
good-humouredly. "I suppose all we who have adventured our few pounds
will be in the people's black books. But we must go on--we can't stop
now."
The next day Tom came over, and the lads went down towards the
far-stretching fen, now once more losing a great deal of the water of
the flood.
They passed the Solemn one apparently none the worse for his bath, for
he trotted away from the gate to thrust his head in the favourite corner
by the old corbel in the wall, and look back at them, as if as ready to
kick as ever.
"Poor old Solomon!" said Dick laughing, "I should have been sorry if he
had been lost."
"Oh, never mind him," cried Tom; "is old Dave coming over to fetch us?
Why, Dick, look!"
"I can't see anything," said Dick.
"Because you're not looking the right way. There! Now he's behind that
bed of reeds a mile away."
"I see!" cried Dick. "Why, it is Dave, and he's coming."
The lads ran down to the edge of the fen, and made their way to the end
of a long, open, river-like stretch of water, which was now perfectly
clear, so that everything could be clearly distinguished at the bottom;
and before long, as they walked to and fro, they caught sight of a
little shoal of small fish, and soon after of a young pike, with his
protruding lower jaw, waiting for his opportunity to make a dash at some
unfortunate rudd, whose orange fins and faintly-gilded sides made him a
delectable-looking morsel for his olive-green and gold excellency the
tyrant of the river.
"He's coming here, isn't he?" said Tom, gazing out anxiously over the
reedy waste.
"Yes; I can see his old fox-skin cap. He's coming safe enough."
"Oh, Dick!" cried his companion.
"Well! What?"
"The powder. You've never given him the powder, and he'll be as gruff
as can be. Has he had the horn?"
"Had two," said Dick, watching the approaching punt, which was still
half a mile away, and being poled steadily in and out of the winding
water-lane, now hidden by the dry rustling reeds which stood covered
with strands of filmy conferva or fen scum.
"But he hasn't had the powder we promised him."
"No," said Dick loftily; "not yet."
"Why, you haven't brought it, Dick!"
"Haven't brought it, indeed! Why, what's this, then?"
He drew a bottle from his pocket, took out the cork, and poured a little
of its contents into his hand--dry, black grains, like so much sable
sand, and then poured it back and corked it tightly.
"You are a good fellow, Dick; but I haven't paid my share."
"I don't want your share," said Dick loftily. "Father gave me
half-a-crown the other day."
"I wish my father gave me half-crowns sometimes," sighed Tom; "but he
isn't so rich as yours."
"There, don't bother about money!" cried Dick. "Let's think about the
birds. Hooray! here he comes! Hi, Dave!"
Sound travels easily over water, and the decoy-man must have heard the
hail, but he paid no heed, only kept on poling his punt along, thrusting
down the long ash sapling, which the fen-men used as punt-pole, staff,
and leaping-pole in turn; and then as the boat glided on, standing erect
in her bows like some statue.
"Now, what a dried-up old yellow mummy he is!" cried Dick. "He can see
us, but he's pretending he can't, on purpose to tease us. Look at that!
He needn't have gone behind that great reed patch. It's to make us
think he is going down to your place."
"Let's run down and meet him," said Tom eagerly.
"No, no; stop where you are. If he sees us go down there he'll double
back directly and come here. He's just like an old fox. I know. Come
along!"
Dick started up and ran in the same direction as Dave had taken with the
punt before he disappeared behind the reed-bed. Tom followed, and they
raced on along the edge till a clump of alders was reached.
"Pst! Tom, round here," whispered Dick; and leading the way he doubled
back, following the long low bed of swamp-loving wood, and keeping in
its shelter till they were once more opposite to the spot where Dave
should have landed.
There, still hid among the trees, Dick stooped down in a thick bed of
dry reeds, pretty close to the water, and in full view of the rough
winding canal leading far and wide.
"Let's hide for a few minutes," said Dick chuckling. "You'll see he'll
come here after all."
The lad had a good idea of Dave's ways, for before they had been
watching many minutes there was the splashing of the pole heard in the
water, and the rustling of the reeds, but nothing was visible, and Tom
began to be of opinion that his companion had been wrong, when all at
once the reeds began to sway and crackle right before them, and before
Tom recovered from his surprise the punt shot right out of the middle of
the long low wall of dried growth, and in answer to a vigorous thrust or
two from the pole, glided across to within a dozen yards of where the
lads crouched.
"Come on, Tom!" said Dick, and they stepped out at once so suddenly that
the decoy-man, in spite of his self-control, started. A curious smile
puckered his face directly and he stood staring at them.
"Why, you have been a long time, Dave," cried Dick.
"Long, boy?"
"Yes, long. You asked us to come over and see the netting."
"Ay, so I did, boy; but there soon wean't be no netting."
"Then come on and let's see it while there is some," cried Dick. "When
we used to be home from school you always said we were too young. You
can't say that now."
"Ay, bud I can," said the man with a dry chuckle.
"Then don't," said Dick. "You've brought your gun there!" he cried
joyfully.
"Ay, I've brote my gun," said Dave; "but I hevven't any powder."
"Yes, you have, Dave," cried Dick, tugging the wine-bottle from his
pocket. "Here's some."
"Eh? Is that powder or drink?" said the man, taking the bottle and
giving it a shake. "It arn't full, though."
"No, it isn't full," said Dick in a disappointed tone; "but there's a
whole pound, and it's the best."
"Ah, well, I daresay it'll do," said Dave slowly.
"Load the gun, then, and let's have a shot at the snipes as we go," said
Tom.
"Nay, she wean't go off till she has had a new flint in. I'm going to
knap one when I get back."
"Jump in, then," cried Dick. "I'm going to pole her across."
"Nay, I don't think it's any use to-day."
"Why, Dave, this is just the sort of day you said was a good one for
netting."
"Did I, lad?"
"Yes; didn't he, Tom? And what's that wisp of birds going over the
water, yonder?"
"Quick, in wi' ye, lads!" cried the decoy-man, with his whole manner
changed. "The right sort. Look, lads, another wisp! See how low they
fly. They mean feeding."
The boys leaped into the punt, and Dick was about to seize the pole, but
Dave stopped him.
"Nay, lad, let me send her across. Save time."
"Then may I have a shot at the first heron I see?"
"Nay, nay; don't let's scar' the birds, lad. It's netting to-day.
We'll shute another time when they wean't come near the net."
Dick gave way, and Dave took the pole, to send the light punt skimming
over the water, and in and out among the reed-beds through which,
puzzling as they would have been to a stranger, he thrust the vessel
rapidly. They were full of devious channels, and Dave seemed to prefer
these, for even when there was a broad open piece of water in front he
avoided it, to take his way through some zigzag lane with the reeds
brushing the boat on either side, and often opening for himself a way
where there was none.
The man worked hard, but it seemed to have no effect upon him; and when
the lads were not watching him and his energetic action, there was
always something to take up their attention. Now a heron would rise out
of one of the watery lanes, gaunt, grey, and with his long legs
stretched out behind to look like a tail as his great flap wings beat
the air and carried him slowly away.
Then with a loud splash and cackling, up would spring a knot of ducks,
their wings whirring as they rapidly beat the air in a flight wonderful
for such a heavy bird. Again a little farther and first one and then
another snipe would dart away in zigzag flight, uttering their strange
_scape, scape_. And all tempting to a lad who sat there within touch of
a long heavy-looking gun, which had been cleaned and polished till every
part was worn.
But he had been told that it was not charged and that the flint-lock was
in a failing condition; and besides, Dick felt that it would be
dishonourable to touch the gun now that it was almost trusted to his
care.
In spite of Dave's ability and knowledge of the short cuts to the part
of the fen where he lived, it took him nearly three-quarters of an hour
to punt across, where the lads landed upon what was really an island in
the fen, though one side ran pretty close up to some fairly dry land
full of narrow water-lanes and pools, all favourite breeding ground for
the wild-fowl.
The boys leaped out while Dave fastened the punt to an old willow trunk,
and, quite at home in the place, went on first to a rough-looking house
nearly hidden among alders and willows, all of which showed traces of
the flood having been right up, submerging everything to a depth of
three to four feet.
"Hullo, Chip! Chip! Chip!" cried Tom, and the decoy-man's little
sharp-looking dog came bounding to them, to leap up, and fawn and whine,
full of delight at seeing human faces again.
There was the twittering and piping of birds, and the scuffling,
scratching noise made by animals in a cage, as they reached the
roughly-fenced yard, more than garden, about Dave's cottage, the boys
eager to inspect the birds, the ferrets, the eel-spear leaning against
the reed thatch, and the brown nets hung over poles, stretching from
post to post, as if to dry.
"Why, it's months sin' you've been to see me," said Dave.
"Well, whose fault's that?" said Dick sharply. "I say, Dave, these nets
are new."
"Ay, every one of 'em. Made 'em all this summer."
"Didn't you get lots of things spoiled when the flood came?" cried Tom.
"N-no, lad, no. Nearly had my birds drownded, but I got 'em atop of the
thack yonder."
"But hasn't your cottage been dreadfully wet?" asked Dick, who was
poking his finger in a cage full of ferrets. "I say, what are John
Warren's ferrets doing here?"
"Doin' nothing, and waiting to be took out, that's all, lad."
"But wasn't your place horribly wet?"
"What care I for a drop o' watter?" said Dave contemptuously.
"Look here, Dick, at the decoys," cried Tom running to a large wicker
cage in which were four of the curious long-legged birds known as ruffs
and reeves.
"Was six," said Dave. "I lost two."
"How?"
"Fightin', lad. I niver see such bonds to fight. Gamecocks is babies
to 'em. I'm going to try a new improved way of ketching of 'em by
challenging the wild ones to fight."
"Never mind about them," said Dick eagerly; "are you going to start
now?"
"Ah! you're so precious eager to begin, lad," said Dave; "but when
you've been sitting out there on the boat for about a couple of hours
you'll be glad to get back."
"Oh, no, we sha'n't!" cried Dick. "Now, then, let's start."
"Ay, but we've got to get ready first."
"Well, that's soon done. Shall I carry the birds down to the boat?"
"Nay; we wean't take them to-day. I've sin more pie-wipes than ruffs,
so let's try for them."
He went round to the back of the hovel and took from the roof a cage
which the lads had not yet seen, containing seven green plovers, and
this was carried to the boat, where the frightened birds ran to and fro,
thrusting their necks between the wicker bars in a vain attempt to
escape.
This done, a bundle of net, some long stout cord, and poles were
carefully placed in the stern, after which Dave went into his cottage to
bring out a mysterious-looking basket, which was also placed in the
stern of the boat.
"That's about all," said the man, after a moment's thought; and
unfastening the punt after the boys were in, he pushed off, but only to
turn back directly and secure the boat again.
"Why, what now, Dave?" cried Dick. "Aren't you going?"
"Going, lad! yes; but I thowt if we caught no bohds you might like me to
shute one or two."
"Well, we've got the gun and plenty of powder."
"Ay, lad; but I've lost my last flint, and I've got to knap one."
The boys followed him ashore, leaving the plovers fluttering in the
cage, and Dave went inside his cottage, and returned directly with a
hammer and a piece of flint, which he turned over two or three times so
as to get the stone in the right position, as, taught by long
experience, he struck a sharp blow.
Now Dave, the duck-decoy-man of the fens, knew nothing about lines of
fracture or bulbs of percussion as taught by mineralogists, but he knew
exactly where to hit that piece of flint so as to cause a nice
sharp-edged flake to fly off, and he knew how and where to hit that
flake so as to chip it into a neat oblong, ready for his gun, those
present being ignorant of the fact that they were watching workmanship
such as was in vogue among the men who lived and hunted in England in
the far-distant ages of which we have no history but what they have left
us in these works. Dave Gittan chipped away at the flint just as the
ancient hunters toiled to make the arrow-heads with which they shot the
animals which supplied them with food and clothing, the flint-knives
with which they skinned and cut up the beasts, and the round sharp-edged
scrapers with which they removed the fat and adhering flesh as they
dressed and tanned the skins to make them fit to wear.
Dave chipped one gun-flint very accurately, failed to make a second, but
was triumphant with the third attempt, and fitting it exactly in the
lock of his piece with a piece of leather at top and bottom, he loaded
the gun with a great deal of ceremony, measuring the powder with a tiny
cup which fitted over the top of his powder-horn, and his shot with the
same vessel, so many times filled.
These rammed down in place with some rough paper on the top, and the
ramrod measured to see whether it stood out the right distance from the
barrel, the pan was primed and closed, and the gun carefully laid ready
for use.
"There," cried Dave in an ill-used tone, "I don't know why I'm tekkin'
all this trouble for such a pair o' young shacks as you; but come
along."
"It's because he likes us, Dick," said Tom merrily.
"Nay, that I don't," cried Dave. "I hate the lot of you. Not one of
you'll be satisfied till you've spoiled all my fen-land, and made it a
place where nivver a bird will come."
"Why, I wouldn't have it touched if I could help it--St! Dave, what
bird's that?" said Dick.
"Curlew," replied Dave in a low voice, whose tones were imitated by the
lads as the boat was softly punted along. "See them, boys!"
He nodded in the direction they were going, towards where a number of
birds were flying about over some patches of land which stood just over
the level of the water. Now they looked dark against the sky, now they
displayed feathers of the purest white, for their flight with their
blunted wings was a clumsy flapping very different to the quiver and
skim of a couple of wild ducks which came by directly after and dropped
into the water a quarter of a mile ahead.
"You come and see me next spring, my lads, and I'll show you where
there's more pie-wipes' eggs than ever you found before in your lives."
"But you'll take us one day to the 'coy, Dave?" said Dick.
"Nay, I don't think I can," said Dave.
"But it's my father's 'coy," said Dick.
"Ay, I know all about that," said the man harshly; "but it wean't be
much good to him if he dree-erns the fen."
Dave's voice was growing loud and excited, but he dropped it directly
and thrust away without making the slightest splash with his iron-shod
pole.
As they came near one bed of reeds several coots began to paddle away,
jerking their bald heads as they went, while a couple of moor-hens,
which as likely as not were both cocks, swam as fast as their long thin
unwebbed toes would allow them, twitching their black-barred white tails
in unison with the jerking of their scarlet-fronted little heads, and
then taking flight upon their rounded wings, dragging their long thin
toes along the top of the water, and shrieking with fear, till they
dropped into the sheltering cover ahead.
Snipes flew up from time to time, and more curlews and green plovers
were seen, offering plenty of opportunities for the use of the gun, as
the punt progressed till a long low spit of heathery gravel, about forty
feet in length and five wide, was reached, with a patch of reeds across
the water about a couple of hundred yards away.
"Is this the place?" cried Dick excitedly; and upon being answered in
the affirmative--"Now, then, what shall we do first?"
"Sit still, and I'll tell you, lads," was the stern reply, as Dave, now
all eagerness, secured the boat and landed his net and poles.
"Don't tread on her, my lads," he said. "Now help me spread her out."
He showed them how to proceed, and the net, about a dozen yards in
length, was spread along the narrow spit of land, which was only about a
foot wider than the net, at whose two ends was fixed a pole as spreader,
to which lines were attached.
The net spread, the side nearest to the water was fastened down with
pegs, so adjusted as to act as hinges upon which the apparatus would
turn, while as soon as this was done Dave called for the
mysterious-looking basket.
This being produced from the punt and opened was found to contain about
a dozen stuffed peewits, which, though rough in their feathers, were
very fair imitations of the real things.
These were stuck along the edge of the net outside and at either end.
"Now for the 'coys," cried Dave, and Tom brought the cage of unfortunate
peewits, who had a painful duty to perform, that of helping to lead
their free brethren into the trap that was being laid for them.
Each of these decoy-birds was quickly and cleverly tethered to a peg
along the edge of the net upon the narrow strip of clear land, a string
being attached to one leg so long as to give them enough freedom to
flutter a little among the stuffed birds, which seemed to be feeding.
"There!" cried Dave, when all was ready; and at a short distance nothing
was visible but the group of birds fluttering or quiescent, for the net
was wonderfully like the ground in colour. "There, she's ready now, my
lads, so come along."
He bade Dick thrust the punt along to the bed of reeds; and as the lad
deftly handled the pole, Dave let out the line, which was so attached to
the ends of the poles that a vigorous pull would drag the net right
over.
It was quite a couple of hundred yards to the reeds, through which the
punt was pushed till it and its occupants were hidden, when, having
thrust down the pole as an anchor to steady the little vessel, the line
was drawn tight so as to try whether it would act, and then kept just so
tense as to be invisible beneath the water, and secured to the edge of
the punt.
"That ought to bring them, lads," said Dave, with his eyes twinkling
beneath his fox-skin cap, after beating a few reeds aside so that they
could have a good view of where the unfortunate peewits fluttered at the
pegs.
"But suppose they don't come?" said Tom. "I know if I was a piewipe I
wouldn't be cheated by a few dummies and some pegged-down birds."
"But then you are not a piewipe, only a goose," said Dick.
"Hist!" whispered Dave, and placing his fingers to his mouth he sent out
over the grey water so exact an imitation of the green plover's cry that
Dick looked at him in wonder, for this was something entirely new.
_Pee-eugh, pee-eugh, pee-eugh_! And the querulous cry was answered from
a distance by a solitary lapwing, which came flapping along in a great
hurry, sailed round and round, and finally dropped upon the little
narrow island and began to run about.
"You won't pull for him, will you, Dave?" whispered Dick.
Dave shook his head, and the boys watched as from time to time the man
uttered the low mournful cry.
"Wonder what that chap thinks of the stuffed ones?" whispered Dick.
"Why don't the live ones tell him it isn't safe?" said Tom.
"Don't know; perhaps they're like old Tom Tallington," said Dick:
"whenever they get into a mess they like to get some one else in it
too."
"You say that again and I'll hit you," whispered Tom, holding up his
fist menacingly.
"Hist!" came from Dave, who uttered the imitation of the peewit's
whistle again, and a couple more of the flap-winged birds came slowly
over the grey-looking water, which to anyone else, with its patches of
drab dry weeds and bared patches of black bog, would have seemed to be a
terrible scene of desolation, whereas it was a place of enchantment to
the boys.
"They come precious slowly," said Dick at last. "I thought that there
would have been quite a crowd of birds, like you see them sometimes.
Look at the old bald-heads, Tom."
He pointed to a party of about half a dozen coots which came slowly out
of the reeds and then sailed on again as if suspicious of all being not
quite right.
Then there was another little flock of ducks streaming over the fen in
the distance, and their cries came faintly as they dashed into the
water, as if returning home after a long absence.
"There goes a her'n," whispered Tom, who was not very good at seeing
birds and worse at telling what they were.
"'Tisn't," cried Dick; "it's only a grey crow."
"If you two go on chattering like that we shall get no birds," said Dave
sharply. "What a pair o' ruck-a-toongues you are; just like two owd
women!"
"Well, but the birds are so long coming," said Dick; "I'm getting the
cramp. I say, Dave, are there any butterbumps [bitterns] close here?"
"Plenty; only they wean't show theirsens. Hah!"
They had been waiting a couple of hours, and the peewit's cry had been
uttered from time to time, but only a straggler or two had landed upon
the strip of land. Dick had been eager to capture these, but Dave shook
his head. It wasn't worth while to set the net and peg out decoys and
stales, he said, to catch two pie-wipes that weren't enough for a man's
dinner.
So they crouched there in the punt, waiting and growing more cold and
cramped, fidgeting and changing their positions, and making waves seem
to rise from under the boat to go whispering among the reeds.
Every now and then Tom uttered a sigh and Dick an impatient grunt, while
at these movements Dave smiled but made no other sign, merely watching
patiently. His eyes glittered, and their lids passed over them rapidly
from time to time; otherwise he was as motionless as if carved out of
old brown boxwood, an idea suggested by the colour of his skin.
"I say," said Dick at last, as there were tokens in the distance of the
day coming to an end with mist and fine rain, "I am getting so hungry!
Got anything to eat, Dave?"
"When we've done, lads."
"But haven't we done? No birds will come to-day."
Dave did not answer, only smiled very faintly; and it seemed as if the
lad was right, for the sky and water grew more grey, and though the
stuffed birds appeared to be diligently feeding, and those which were
tethered hopped about and fluttered their wings, while the two free ones
ran here and there, flew away and returned, as if exceedingly mystified
at the state of affairs on that long, narrow strip of land, Dave's calls
seemed to be as vain as the snares he had made.
"I wonder whether these birds break their shins in running over the
meshes of the net!" said Dick after a long yawn. "Oh, I say, Dave,
there's no fun in this; let's go!"
"Hist! pee-eugh, pee-eugh!" whistled Dave loudly, and then in quite a
low tone that sounded distant, and this he kept up incessantly and with
a strange ventriloquial effect.
The boys were all excitement now, for they grasped at once the cause of
their companion's rapid change of manner. For there in the distance,
coming down with the wind in scattered flight and as if labouring
heavily to keep themselves up, appeared a flock of lapwings pretty well
a hundred strong.
"Hooray! At last, Tom!" cried Dick. "Will they come and settle on the
net, Dave?"
"Not a bird of 'em if thou keeps up that ruck," whispered the man
excitedly.
The next minute he was imitating the cry of the peewit, and it was
answered from the distance by the birds coming along, while the two
stragglers which had been hanging about so long now rose up, circled
round, and settled again.
"Look at them!" whispered Dick. "Lie low, Tom; they're coming."
Both lads were on the tiptoe of expectation, but it seemed as if they
were to be disappointed, for the flock came on slowly, uttering its
querulous cries, and circled round as if to pass over, but they were
evidently still attracted by the decoy-birds, and hesitated and flew to
and fro.
"Oh, if they don't light now!" said Dick to himself. "They're going,"
he sighed half aloud, and then he seized Tom's arm in his excitement,
and gripped it so hard that the boy nearly cried out, and would have
done so but for the state of eagerness he too was in.
For after farther signs of hesitation and doubt, all of which were in
favour of the flock going right away, one of them seemed to give a
regular tumble over in the air, as if it were shot, and alighted.
Another followed, and another, and another, till, to the intense
excitement of the occupants of the boat among the reeds, the long, low
spit of gravel, almost level with the water, became alive with birds
running here and there.
It was on Dick's lips to cry, "Now, Dave, pull!" but he could not speak,
only watch the thin, keen, yellow man, whose eye glittered beneath his
rough hairy cap as he slowly tightened the line, drawing it up till it
was above the surface of the water, which began to ripple and play about
it in long waves running off in different directions. There was so
great a length that it was impossible to draw it tight without moving
the spreader poles; and as the lads both thought of what the
consequences would be if the line broke, the movement at the ends of the
long net spread the alarm.
There was a curious effect caused by the spreading of the wings of the
birds, and the whole island seemed to be slowly rising in the air; but
at that moment the water hissed from the punt right away to where the
flock was taking flight, and as the line tightened, a long filmy wave
seemed to curve over towards them. By one rapid practice-learned drag,
the net was snatched over and fell on to the water, while a great flock
of green plovers took flight in alarm and went flapping over reed-bed
and mere.
"Oh, what a pity!" cried Dick, jumping up in the boat and stamping his
foot with rage.
"And so near, too!" cried Tom.
"Sit down, lads," roared Dave, who was dragging the pole out of the
ground, and the next moment he was thrusting the light boat along over
the intervening space, and the more readily that the bottom there was
only three or four feet below the surface, and for the most part firm.
"Why, have you caught some?" cried Dick.
The answer was given in front, for it was evident that the net had
entangled several of the unfortunate birds, which were flapping the
water and struggling vainly to get through the meshes, but drowning
themselves in the effort.
The scene increased in excitement as the boat neared, for the birds
renewed their struggles to escape, and the decoys tethered on the island
to their pegs leaped and fluttered.
In an incredibly short time the skilful puntsman had his boat alongside
the net, and then began the final struggle.
It was a vain one, for one by one the plovers were dragged from beneath
and thrust into a large basket, till the net lay half-sunk beneath the
surface, and the feeble flapping of a wing or two was all that could be
heard.
The boat was dripping with water and specked with wet feathers, and a
solitary straggler of the plover flock flew to and fro screaming as if
reproaching the murderers of its companions; otherwise all was still as
Dave stood up and grinned, and showed his yellow teeth.
"There!" he cried triumphantly; "yow didn't expect such a treat as
that!"
"Treat!" said Dick, looking at his wet hands and picking some feathers
from his vest, for he and Tom after the first minute had plunged
excitedly into the bird slaughter and dragged many a luckless bird out
of the net.
"Ay, lad, treat!--why, there's nigh upon fourscore, I know."
Dick's features had a peculiar look of disgust upon them and his brow
wrinkled up.
"Seems so precious cruel," he said.
Dave, who was rapidly freeing his decoy-birds and transferring them to
the cage, stood up with a fluttering plover in one hand.
"Cruel!" he cried.
"Yes, and treacherous," replied Dick.
"Deal more cruel for me to be found starved to death in my place some
day," said Dave. "Pie-wipes eats the beedles and wains, don't they?
Well, we eats the pie-wipes, or sells 'em, and buys flour and bacon.
Get out wi' ye! Cruel! Yow don't like piewipe pie!"
"I did, and roast piewipe too," cried Dick; "but I don't think I shall
ever eat any again."
"Hark at him!" cried Dave, going on rapidly with his task and packing up
his stuffed birds neatly in their basket, drawing out his pegs, and then
rolling up and wringing the wet net before placing it in the punt, and
winding in the dripping line which he drew through the water from the
reed-bed. "Hark at him, young Tom Tallington!"--and he uttered now a
peculiarly ugly harsh laugh--"young squire ar'n't going to eat any more
bacon, 'cause it's cruel to kill the pigs; nor no eels, because they has
to be caught; and he wean't catch no more jacks, nor eel-pouts, nor yet
eat any rabbud-pie! Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"
"Look here, Dave!" cried Dick passionately, "if you laugh at me I'll shy
something at you! No, I won't," he shouted, seizing the cage; "I'll
drown all your decoys!"
"Ay, do!" said Dave, beginning to use the pole. "You're such a
particular young gentleman! Only, wouldn't it be cruel?"
"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Tom.
"Do you want me to punch your head, Tom?" roared Dick, turning scarlet.
"Nay, lads, don't spyle a nice bit o' sport by quarrelling," said Dave,
sending the boat rapidly homeward. "I wean't laugh at you no more,
Mester Dick. I like you for it, lad. It do seem cruel; and sometimes
when I weer younger, and a bud looked up at me with its pretty eyes, as
much as to say, `don't kill me!' I would let it go."
"Ah!" ejaculated Dick with a sigh of relief.
"But what did that bud do, lad? If it was a piewipe, go and kill
hundreds o' worms, and snails, and young frogs; if it was a heron, spear
fish and pick the wriggling young eels out of the mud. No, lad, it
wean't do; buds is the cruellest things there is, pretty as they are--
all except them as only eats seeds. Everything 'most is cruel; but if
they wasn't the world would get so full that everything would starve.
We've got say fourscore pie-wipes--not for fun, but for wittles--and
what's fourscore when there's thousands upon thousands all about?"
"Why, Dave, you're a philosopher!" said Dick, who felt relieved.
"Yes," said Dave complacently, but with a very foggy idea of the meaning
of the word; "it's being out so much upon the water. Now, there's a
nice couple o' ducks swimming just the other side o' them reeds, as a
lad might hit just as they rose from the water when we come round the
corner; and I'd say hev a shot at 'em, Mester Dick--on'y, if I did, it
would hurt your feelings."
Dick was silent for a moment or two as he tried to keep down his human
nature. Then he spoke out:
"I beg your pardon, Dave, after what you did for us. May I take up the
gun?"
"Ay. Steady, lad!--keep her head over the stem, and I'll turn the boat
round and send you along gently. Now you lie down on your chesty and
rest the barr'l on the net, for she's too heavy for you to handle. Then
wait till the ducks rise, and let go at 'em."
There was another interval full of excitement; the punt was sent quietly
toward the end of the reed-bed; and in obedience to his instructions
Dick knelt ready to fire--Tom watching him enviously, and wishing it
were his turn.
Nearer, nearer, with the punt allowed to go on now by the force of the
last thrust given to it, till the last patch of reed was cleared; and
there, not twenty yards away, swam a fine shieldrake and four ducks.
As the punt glided into sight there was a splashing and whirring of
wings, a great outcry, and away went the birds.
"Now, lad!" cried Dave; and the gun was fired with a deafening report.
But no feathers flew--no unfortunate duck or drake dropped,
broken-winged, into the water. The only living being injured was Dick,
who sat up rubbing his shoulder softly.
"I say," he said, "how that gun kicks!"
"Yes," said Dave dryly, "I put a big charge in her, my lad; but it was a
pity to waste it."
"I couldn't help missing," said Dick. "They were so quick."
"Nay, you wouldn't try to hit 'em, lad, because you thought you'd hot
'em," said Dave, chuckling; and Tom laughed, while Dick sat and nursed
the gun in silence, till the punt was poled ashore and its contents
landed.
"Now," said Dave, "I've got a rabbud-pie as I made mysen. Come and hev
a bit, lads; and then you shall take home a dozen pie-wipes apiece.
It'll be moonlight, and I'll soon punt you across."
That pie, in spite of the rough surroundings, was delicious; and Dick
forgot to pity the poor rabbits, and he did not refuse to take his dozen
lapwings home for a welcome addition to the next day's dinner.
"You see, Tom," he whispered, "I think I was a little too particular.
Good-night, Dave, and thank you!" he shouted.
"Good-night, lads--good-night!" came off the water. Then there was a
splash of the pole, and Dave disappeared in the moonlit mist which
silvered the reeds, while the boys trudged the rest of their way home.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE DRAIN PROGRESSES.
The number of workers increased at the sea-bank, quite a colony growing
up, and Dick paid several visits to the place with his father to see how
busily the men were delving, while others built up what was termed a
_gowt_--a flood-gate arrangement for keeping out the sea at high water,
and opening it at low, so as to give egress to the drain-water collected
from the fen-land.
Both lads were eager enough to be there to witness the progress of the
works at first; but after going again and again, they voted the whole
thing to be uninteresting, and no more worth seeing than the digging of
one of the ditches on the farms at home.
And certainly there was no more difference than in the fact that the
ditches at home were five or six feet wide, while the one the
adventurers were having cut through the fen-land would be forty feet,
and proportionately deep.
So the big drain progressed foot by foot, creeping on as it were from
the sea-shore, an innocent-looking channel that seemed valueless, but
which would, when finished, rid the land of its stagnant water, and turn
the boggy, peaty soil of the fen into rich pasture and corn-land,
whereas its finest produce now was wild-fowl and a harvest of reeds.
"We're getting on, neighbour," said the squire to Farmer Tallington one
evening.
"Ay, but it's slow work," said Tom's father. "It'll be years before
that lode is cooten."
"Yes, it will be years before it is finished," said the squire,
"certainly."
"Then, what's the good of us putting our money in it, eh? It'll do us
no good, and be robbing our boys."
"Then why don't you leave off, father?" said Tom stoutly. "Dick
Winthorpe and I don't want the fen to be drained, and we don't want to
be robbed. Do we, Dick?"
The two elders laughed heartily, and the squire was silent for a few
minutes before he began to speak.
"The drain's right, neighbour," he said gravely. "Perhaps you and I
will reap no great benefit from it; though, if we live, we shall; but
instead of leaving to our boys, when they take up our work, neighbour,
either because we are called away to our rest or because we have grown
old, these farms with so much good land and so much watery bog, we shall
leave them acre upon acre of good solid land, that has been useless to
us, but which will bear them crops and feed their beasts."
"Yes," said Farmer Tallington, "there's something in that, but--"
"Come, neighbour, look ahead. Every foot that drain comes into the fen
it will lower the level, and we shall see--and before long--our farm
land grow, and the water sink."
"Ye-es; but it's so like working for other people!"
"Well," said the squire laughing, "what have you been doing in that half
acre of close beside your house?"
"That! Oh, only planted it with pear-trees so as to make a bit of an
orchard!"
"Are you going to pick a crop of pears next year, neighbour?"
"Next year! Bah! They'll be ten years before they come well into
bearing." [This was the case with the old-fashioned grafting.]
"So will the acres laid bare by the draining," said the squire smiling,
"and I hope we shall live to see our boys eating the bread made from
corn grown on that patch of water and reeds, along with the pears from
your trees."
"That's a clincher," said the farmer. "You've coot the ground from
under me, neighbour, and I wean't grudge the money any more."
"I wish father wouldn't say _coot_ and _wean't_!" whispered Tom, whose
school teaching made some of the homely expressions and bits of dialect
of the fen-land jar.
"Why not? What does it matter?" said Dick, who was busy twisting the
long hairs from a sorrel nag's tail into a fishing-line.
"Sounds so broad. Remember how the doctor switched Bob Robinson for
saying he'd been _agate_ early."
"Yes, I recollect," said Dick, tying a knot to keep the hairs from
untwisting; "and father said he ought to have been ashamed of himself,
for _agate_ was good old Saxon, and so were all the words our people use
down here in the fen. I say, what are they talking about now?"
"Well, for my part," said the squire rather hotly, in reply to some
communication his visitor had made, "so long as I feel that I'm doing
what is right, no threats shall ever stop me from going forward."
"But they seem to think it arn't right," said the farmer. "Those in the
fen say it will ruin them."
"Ruin! Nonsense!" cried the squire. "They'll have plenty of good land
to grow potatoes, and oats, instead of water, which produces them a
precarious living from wild-fowl and fish, and ruins no end of them with
rheumatism and fever."
"Yes, but--"
"But what, man? The fen-men who don't cultivate the soil are very few
compared to those who do, and the case is this. The fen-land is growing
about here, and good land being swallowed up by the water. Five acres
of my farm, which used to be firm and dry, have in my time become
water-logged and useless. Now, are the few to give way to the many, or
the many to give way to the few?"
"Well, squire, the few think we ought to give way to them."
"Then we will not," said the squire hotly; "and if they don't know
what's for their good, they must be taught. You know how they will
stick to old things and refuse to see how they can be improved."
"Ay, it's their nature, I suppose. All I want is peace and quietness."
"And you'll have it. Let them threaten. The law is on our side. They
will not dare."
"I don't know," said Farmer Tallington, scratching his head as they
walked out into the home close. "You see, squire, it wean't be open
enemies we shall have to fear--"
"The Winthorpes never feared their enemies since they settled in these
parts in the days of King Alfred," said Dick grandly.
"Hear, hear, Dick!" cried his father, laughing.
"No more did the Tallingtons," said Tom, plucking up, so as not to be
behindhand.
"Nay, Tom, my lad," said the farmer, "Tallingtons was never fighting
men. Well, squire, I thought I'd warn you."
"Of course, of course, neighbour. But look here, whoever sent you that
cowardly bit of scribble thought that because you lived out here in this
lonely place you would be easily frightened. Look here," he continued,
taking a scrap of dirty paper out of his old pocket-book; "that bit of
rubbish was stuck on one of the tines of a hay-fork, and the shaft
driven into the ground in front of my door. I said nothing about it to
you, but you see I've been threatened too."
He handed the paper to Farmer Tallington, who read it slowly and passed
it back.
"Same man writ both, I should say."
"So should I--a rascal!" said the squire. "Here, Dick, don't say a word
to your mother; it may alarm her."
"No, father, I sha'n't say anything; but--"
"But what? Speak out."
"May I read it--and Tom?" he added, for he saw his companion's eager
looks.
"Well, yes, you've heard what we've been talking about--what neighbour
Tallington came over for."
"Yes, father," said Dick, taking the piece of paper, and feeling very
serious, since he knew that it contained a threat. But as soon as he
grasped its contents--looking at them as a well-educated lad for his
days, fresh from the big town grammar-school--he slapped his thigh with
one hand, and burst into a roar of laughter, while his father looked on
with a grim smile.
"What is it, Dick?" cried Tom eagerly.
"Here's a game!" cried Dick. "Just look!"
There was not much on the paper, and that was written in a clumsy
printing-letter fashion, beneath a rough sketch, and with another to
finish.
"Why, here's a hollow turnip and two sticks!" cried Dick aloud; "and--
and what is it, Tom?"
`stope the dyke
or yow hev 2
dighe'
"Stop the dyke or you'll have to dig," said Tom eagerly. "You'll have
to dig! Does he mean dig the ditch?"
"No!" roared Dick; "that's the way he spells die, and that long square
thing's meant for a coffin."
"Yes, Dick, and that's the spirit in which to take such a cowardly
threat--laugh at it," said the squire, replacing the letter in his
pocket-book. "I only wish I knew who sent it. Who's this coming?"
"Why, it's Dave!" cried Tom eagerly, as the man came slowly along one of
the winding lanes of water in his punt.
"Oh, yes, I remember!" said the squire; "he was here yesterday and said
he would come and fetch you, Dick, if you liked to go, over to the
decoy."
"And you never said a word about it, father! Here, come along, Tom."
The latter glanced at his father, but read consent in his eyes, and the
two lads dashed off together.
"Seems to be letting him idle a deal," said Farmer Tallington
thoughtfully.
"Not it," said the squire. "They're both very young and growing. Let
them enjoy themselves and grow strong and hearty. They've had a long
turn at school, and all this will do them good."
"Ay, it'll mak 'em grow strong and lusty if it does nowt else," said the
farmer.
"And as to the big drain," said the squire; "we're farmers, neighbour,
even if I do work my land as much for pleasure as for profit."
"Ay, but what's that to do with it?"
"This," said the squire, smiling; "a man who puts his hand to the plough
should not look back."
"That's true," said Farmer Tallington; "but when he gets a letter to say
some one's going to kill him, and draws coffins on the paper, it's
enough to mak' him look back."
"It's all stuff, neighbour! Treat it as I do--with contempt."
"Ah! you see you're a gentleman, squire, and a bit of a scholar, and I'm
only a plain man."
"A good neighbour and a true Englishman, Tallington; and I'm glad my son
has so good and frank a companion as your boy. There, take my advice:
treat all this opposition with contempt."
"Theer's my hand, squire," said Farmer Tallington. "You nivver gave me
a bad bit of advice yet, and I'll stick to what you say--but on one
condition."
"What's that?" said the squire, smiling.
"You'll let me grumble now and then."
Long before Farmer Tallington had parted from the squire at the
beginning of the rough track which led from the Priory to Grimsey, Dick
and Tom were down by the water's edge waiting for Dave, who came up with
a dry-looking smile upon his face--a smile which looked as if it were
the withered remains of a last year's laugh.
"How are you, Dave?" cried Dick. "We only just knew you were coming.
Are there plenty of ducks?"
"Mebbe. Few like," said Dave in the slow way of a man who seldom
speaks.
"_Wuph_! _wuph_!" came from the boat.
"What! Chip, boy! how are you?" cried Dick, patting the dog, which
seemed to go half mad with delight at having someone to make a fuss over
him, and then rushed to Tom to collect a few more friendly pats and
words.
"Shall we get in, Dave?" cried Tom.
"Get in, lad! Why, what for?"
"Now, Dave, don't go on like that," cried Dick impatiently. "Let's get
on, there's a good fellow. I do want to see you work the decoy."
"Oh, you don't care for that! 'Sides, I want to go to Hickathrift's to
see his dunky pigs."
"Nonsense! What do you want to see the dunks for?"
"Thinking o' keeping a pig o' my own out thar, lads. It's rayther
lonesome at times; and," he added quite seriously, "a pig would be
company."
The boys looked at one another and smothered a laugh for fear of giving
offence.
"What, with a place like a jolly island all to yourself, where you live
like a Robinson Crusoe and can keep tame magpies and anything you like,
and your boat, and your dog, and eel-spear?"
"And nets," put in Tom.
"And fishing-lines," said Dick.
"And gun," said Tom.
"Ay, lads," said Dave gravely; "seems aw reight to you, but it be
lonesome sometimes when the bootherboomps get running out o' the reeds
in the dark evenings and then go sailing high up and round and round."
"Oh, I should like that!" said Dick.
"Nay, lad, yow wouldn't. It would scar yow. Then o' soft warm nights
sometimes the frogs begins, and they go on crying and piping all round
you for hours."
"Pooh!" said Tom; "who'd mind a few frogs?"
"And then o' still nights theer's the will o' the wipses going about and
dancing over the holes in the bog."
"I say, Dave, what is a will o' the wisp really like?"
"What! heven't you niver seen one, lad?" said Dave, as he seated himself
on the edge of the boat.
"No; you see we've always been away at school. I can remember one of
our men--Diggles it was--pointing out one on a dark night when I was
quite young, and I saw some kind of light, and I was such a little
fellow then that I ran in--frightened."
"Ay, they do frecken folk," said Dave, putting a piece of brown gum in
his mouth; "only you must be careful which way you run or you may go
right into the bog and be smothered, and that's what the wills like."
"Like! why, they're only lights," said Tom.
"They'm seem to you like lights, but they be kind o' spirits," said Dave
solemnly; "and they wants you to be spirits, too, and come and play with
'em, I s'pose."
"But, Dave, never mind the will o' the wisps. Come on to the 'coy."
"Nay, it's no use to go there; the nets that goes over the pipes has
been charmed [gnawed] by the rats."
"Yes, I know," cried Dick, laughing; "and you've put all new ones. I
heard you tell father so, and he paid you ever so much money. He's only
playing with us, Tom."
Dave laughed like a watchman's rattle, whose wooden spring had grown
very weak.
"Look here, Dave, now no nonsense! Want some more powder?"
"Nay, I don't want no poother," said Dave.
"Do you want some lead to melt down? I'll give you a big lump."
"Nay, I don't want no poother, and I don't want no lead," said Dave in
an ill-used tone. "I can buy what I want."
"He does want it, Dick."
"Nay, I don't, lad; and things a man do want nobody asks him to hev."
"Why, what do you want, Dave?"
"Oh, nowt! I don't want nowt. But there is times when a man's a bit
ill out there in the fen, and he gets thinking as a drop o' sperrits 'd
do him good. But I d'n know."
"All right, Dave! I won't forget," said Dick. "Jump in, Tom."
"Nay, what's the good?" said Dave.
"All right, Tom! He's going to take us to the 'coy."
Tom followed his companion into the boat, the dog leaped in after them,
whining with pleasure; and shaking his head and talking to himself, Dave
followed, seized the pole, giving a grunt at Dick, who wanted to preside
over the locomotion, and then, with a tremendous thrust, he sent the
punt surging through the water.
"Nay, I'll pole," he said. "Get us over sooner, and we can begin work."
Dick exchanged glances with his companion, and they sat playing with the
dog and watching the birds that rose from the reeds or swept by in
little flocks in the distance, till, after about half an hour's poling,
Dave ran the boat into a narrow lane among the uncut reeds, after a
warning to be quite still, which the lads observed and the dog
understood, going forward and crouching down in front of his master,
with his eyes glittering and ears quivering with the intense way in
which he was listening.
The way through the reeds was long, and in spite of the stealthy way in
which the boat was propelled, several birds were startled, and flew up
quacking loudly, and went away.
At last, though, they emerged from the dry growth into a little open
pool, and crossing this, landed by a low house thatched with reeds and
hidden in a thick grove of alders.
"Now, lads," said Dave in a whisper, "not a word. Stay here while I go
and look. I wean't be long."
He secured the boat to a stump of wood, and landed, leaving the lads
seated in the punt, and gazing about them. But there was very little to
see, for, save in the direction of the patch of reeds through which they
had passed, there was a low dense growth of alders and willows running
up to the height of twelve or fifteen feet; and it was beyond this that
the sport was to be had.
They had not very long to wait before Dave returned, with Chip the piper
at his heels--not that the dog had any musical gifts, but that he was
clever in doing certain duties in connection with a pipe, as will be
seen, and to perform these adequately utter silence was required.
Dave seemed quite transformed. His yellow face, instead of being dull
and heavy, was full of anxious lines, his eyes twinkled, his mouth
twitched and worked, and his brown wiry hands were fidgeting about his
chin.
As he came up he held a finger in the air to command silence, and with
stooping body and quick alert way he paused till he was close to the
boys, and then whispered:
"You couldn't hev come better, lads; there's a boat load of 'em in the
pond."
"What sort?" whispered Dick excitedly.
"All sorts, lad: widgeons, teal, mallards, and some pochards. Only
mind, if you say a word aloud, or let that theer dog bark, we sha'n't
get a duck."
Dick clapped his hand over his mouth, as if to ensure silence, and Tom
compressed his lips.
"Come along, then, boys, and I'll set yow wheer yow can look through a
hole in one o' the screens and see all the fun."
"But can't we help, Dave?" asked Tom.
"Help, lad! no, not till the ducks are in the net. Then you may. Now,
not a word, and come on."
Dave led the way to the little house, where he filled his pockets with
barley and oats mixed, out of a rough box, and as he did so he pointed
to one corner which had been gnawed.
"Been charming of it," he whispered. "Eats! Now come, quiet-like;" and
he stepped out and into a narrow path leading through the dense alder
wood, and in and out over patches of soft earth which quivered and felt
like sponges beneath their feet.
Dave glanced back at them sharply two or three times when a rustling
sound was made, and signed to them to be careful. Then once he stopped
in a wider opening and tossed up a feather or two, as if to make sure of
the way the wind blew. Apparently satisfied, he bent towards the two
lads and whispered:
"I'm going to the second pipe. Come quiet. Not a word, and when I mak'
room for you, peep through the screen for a minute, and then come away."
The boys nodded, and followed in silence through a part of the alder
wood which was not quite so dense, for here and there patches of tall
reeds had grown out of a watery bed, and now stood up seven or eight
feet high and dry and brown.
Then all at once Dave stopped and looked back at them with a sly kind of
grin upon his face, as he pointed down to a strong net stretched loosely
over some half hoops of ash, whose ends were stuck down tightly in the
soft ground so as to form a tunnel about two feet wide.
This was over the soft earth, upon which lay the end of the net, tied
round with a piece of cord. A few yards farther on, however, this first
net was joined to another, and the tunnel of network was arched over a
narrow ditch full of water, and this ditch gradually increased in width
as the man led on, and ran in a curve, along whose outer or convex side
they were proceeding.
Before long, as the bent-over willows spanned the ditch or "pipe," as it
was called, the net ceased to come down quite to the ground, its place
being occupied by screens made of reeds and stakes, and all so placed
that there was room to go round them.
The boys now noted that the dog was following close behind in a way as
furtive as his master, and apparently quite as much interested as he in
what was to take place.
The water ditch increased in width rapidly now till the net tunnel
became six feet, twelve feet, twenty feet, and, close to the mouth,
twenty-four feet wide, while the light ash-poles, bent over and tied in
the middle, were quite twelve feet above the water.
They were now near the mouth of the curved ditch, whose narrow portion
bent round quite out of sight among the trees, while at a signal from
Dave they went to a broad reed screen in front, and gazed through an
opening, to see stretching out before them, calm and smooth beneath the
soft grey wintry sky, a large pool of about a couple of acres in extent,
surrounded by closely growing trees similar to those through which they
had passed, while at stated intervals were openings similar to that by
which they stood, in all five in number, making a rough star whose arms
or points were ditches or pipes some five-and-twenty feet wide, and
curving off, to end, as above told, sixty or seventy yards from the
mouth, only two feet wide, and covered right along with net.
All this was well-known to them before, and they hardly gave it a second
glance. What took their attention were some half dozen flocks of
water-fowl seated calmly on the smooth surface of the pool and a couple
of herons standing in the shallow water on the other side, one so
hitched up that he seemed to have no neck, the other at his full height,
and with bill poised ready to dart down at some unfortunate fish.
Here and there a moor-hen or two swam quietly about flicking its
black-barred white tail. There were some coots by a bed of reeds, and a
couple of divers, one of which disappeared from time to time in the most
business-like manner, and came up at the end of a long line of bubbles
many yards away.
Nearest to them was a large flock of quite a hundred ordinary wild
ducks, for the most part asleep, while the others sat motionless upon
the water or swam idly about, all waiting patiently in the secluded
pool, which seemed to them a sanctuary, for nightfall, when slugs and
snails would be out and other things in motion, ready to supply them
with a banquet on some of their far-off feeding grounds. The drakes
were already distinct enough from the sober-feathered ducks, but the
former were not in their spring plumage, when they would put on their
brightest colours and their heads glisten in green and gold.
Away to the left were a number of flat-looking squatty-shaped pochards
with their brown heads and soft grey backs, while to the right were
plenty of widgeons and another little flock of teal, those pretty
miniature ducks, with here and there a rarer specimen, among which were
pintails, drakes with the centre feathers of the tail produced like
those of a parroquet.
The lads could have stopped for an hour gazing at the manners and
customs of the wild-fowl dotting the lake in happy unconsciousness of
the enemies so near; but, just as Dick had fixed his eyes upon a
solitary group of about a couple of dozen ducks nearly across the pond,
he felt a tug behind him, and turning, there was Dave signing to him to
come away.
Dave made the lads follow him till he could place them in among the
trees with a tuft of reeds before them, which proved sufficient screen
and yet gave them a view of part of the pool, and the entrance to the
pipe upon whose bank they had been standing.
"Now, look here, bairns," he whispered; "if you move or says a word,
there'll be no ducks."
The lads nodded and crouched in their places, while Dave disappeared
behind them, but appeared again close to the screen of reed which hid
him from the birds in the pool.
Matters were so exciting now as the watchers looked on that Dick
relieved his feelings by pinching Tom's leg, and then holding up his
fist, as if in promise of what was to follow if he made a sound.
Meanwhile, with Chip close at his heels, Dave went to the farthest
screen and peered through the opening, and after satisfying himself they
saw him thrust one hand into his pocket and make a sign to Chip, while
almost simultaneously he scattered a handful of the oats and barley
right over the water, the grain falling through the meshes of the
outspread net.
Just then Chip, in the most quiet matter-of-fact way, made his
appearance on the fore-shore of the pool, and, without barking or taking
notice of the ducks, trotted slowly along toward the entrance to the
pipe, leaped over a low piece of wood, and disappeared from sight to
join his master behind the screen, when the dog was rewarded for what he
had done with a piece of cheese.
The coming of the dog, however, had created quite a commotion upon the
lake, for the knot of two dozen ducks on the other side no sooner caught
sight of him than, uttering a prodigious quacking, they came swimming
and half flying as rapidly as they could toward the mouth of the pipe,
to begin feeding upon the oats scattered upon the water.
"Look at the decoy-ducks," whispered Dick, and then he watched in
silence, for these two dozen were regularly fed wild-fowl which had
become so far half tame that, knowing the appearance of the dog to be
associated with corn and other seeds at the mouth of the pipe, they came
at once.
This was too much for the strangers, which followed them, mingled with
them, and began to feed as well.
Dave was at this time behind the second screen waiting for Chip, who
showed himself for a moment or two at the edge of the long water ditch,
trotted on towards the second screen, leaped over a low wood bar at the
end, and joined his master, to receive a second piece of cheese.
That white dog was a wonder to the wild ducks, which left off eating
directly and began to swim slowly and cautiously up the netted tunnel to
try and find out what he was doing.
Had Chip stopped and looked at them, and barked, they would all have
taken flight, but the dog was too well taught. He was a piper of the
highest quality, and knew his business, which was to show himself for a
short time and then trot on to the next screen and leap over and
disappear just as if he were engaged in some mysterious business of his
own.
This was too much for the ducks, which cackled and bobbed their heads up
and down and swam on, moved by an intense curiosity to find out what was
Chip's particular game.
But Chip's proceedings were stale to the decoy-ducks, who had seen him
so often that they cared nothing, but stopped behind to partake of the
food, while quite a hundred followed their leaders up the pipe in happy
ignorance of the meaning of a net. What was more, the decoy-ducks often
found food at the mouths of the pipes when their wild relatives were off
feeding, and hence they troubled themselves no more. All that was
impressed upon their small brains was that the appearance of Chip meant
food, and they stayed behind to feed.
Chip was invisible eating a piece of cheese. Then he appeared again
higher up, trotted on, leaped over the low wood bar, and joined his
master for more cheese.
And so it went on, Dave going higher and higher from screen to screen,
and the dog slowly following and alternately appearing to and
disappearing from the sight of the ducks, which never of course caught
sight of Dave, who was too well hidden behind the screens.
At last they were lured on and on so far by the dog that they were where
the ditch began to bend round more sharply and the pipe was narrowing.
This was the time for a fresh proceeding.
Dave had gone on right up to the farthest screen, and suddenly dived
into a narrow path through the trees which led him, quite concealed from
view, round and back to the first screen. He passed the boys, making
them a sign to be silent, and then went right round that first screen
just as Chip was appearing far up by the side of the pipe--and the flock
of ducks were following--and quickly now showed himself at the mouth of
the trap.
The ducks saw him instantly, and there was a slight commotion as he took
off and held up his hat; but there was no attempt at flight, the birds
merely swam on rapidly farther toward the end and disappeared round the
curve.
Dave went quickly on past a screen or two and showed himself again, the
curve of the pipe bringing him once more into view. He held up his hat
and the ducks swam on, out of sight once more.
This was continued again and again, till the ducks were driven by
degrees from where the ditch and its arching of net decreased from eight
feet wide to six feet, to four feet, to two feet, and the flock was
huddled together, and safe in the trap that had been prepared for them.
All at once, while the two lads were watching all these proceedings,
Dave came into sight for a moment and waved his hand for them to come,
but signed to them at the same time to be quiet.
It was as well that he did, for otherwise they would have uttered a
shout of triumph.
"We've got 'em, lads," he said, with his yellow face puckered up with
satisfaction; "but don't make a noise. I like to keep the 'coy quiet.
Come along!"
"Is there any fear of their getting away now, Dave?" whispered Dick as
he followed.
"Yes, to market," said Dave grimly.
As they neared the end of the pipe there was a loud cackling and
fluttering heard, and the ducks were disposed to make a rush back, but
the sight of the man sent them all onward once more to the end of the
pipe, where they were driven to leave the water for the dry land, over
which the net was spread for the last few yards, forming a gigantic
purse or stocking.
And now a tremendous fluttering and excitement ensued, for as, in
obedience to their leader's sign, the lads stopped once more, Dave
stepped forward rapidly, detached the final portion of the net which
formed the bag or purse from the bent-over ash stick, and twisted it
together and tied it round, with the result that the birds were all shut
up in the long purse and at his mercy.
Just then Chip performed a kind of triumphal dance, and leaped up at
Dick and again at Tom before becoming quiescent, and looking up at all
in turn, giving his little stumpy tail a few wags, while his whole
aspect seemed to say:
"Didn't we do that well?"
"That's a fine take, my lads," said Dave in congratulatory tones.
"Yes," said Dick, looking down at the frightened birds scuffling over
each other; "but--"
"Nay! don't, man, say that!" cried Dave. "I know, my lad. But wild
duck's good to yeat; and they've got to be killed and go to market. Yow
wanted to see me ketch the duck, and theer they are. Going to help me
kill 'em?"
"No!" cried Dick in a voice full of disgust. But he helped carry the
capture to the boat after the slaying was at an end and the empty short
net replaced, ready distended at the end of the tunnel or pipe.
"There we are!" said Dave. "Ready for another flock?"
"And are you going to try for another in one of the pipes over the other
side?"
"Nay, not to-day, my lad," was the reply. "The 'coy-ducks wean't be
hungry and come for their food, so we'll wait for another time."
"Don't the 'coy-ducks ever go right away, Dave?" asked Tom, as the boat
was being quietly poled back.
"Sometimes; but not often, and if they do some others taks their places,
and stops. They get fed reg'lar, and that's what a duck likes. Good
uns to eat, ducks. They mak' nests and bring off broods of young ones,
and keep to the pool year after year, and seem to know me a bit; but if
Chip here went barking among 'em, or I was to go shooting, they'd soon
be driven away."
"But do they know that they are leading the wild ducks into the pipe?"
said Dick eagerly.
"_Not_ they. Ducks can't think like you and me. They come to be fed,
and the others follow 'em, and then get thinking about Chip and follow
him."
"Does Chip know?" said Tom.
"Ask him," said Dave, laughing in his grim, silent way. "I think he
doos, but he never said so. Hello!"
They were passing the edge of a great bed of reeds, and rounding a
corner, when they came in sight of three or four teal, and no sooner did
the birds catch sight of them than they began to scurry along the water
preparatory to taking flight, but all at once there was a rush and a
splash, and the party in the boat saw a huge fish half throw itself out
of the water, fall back, and disappear.
"He caught him," said Dave grimly. "You see, lad, other things 'sides
me ketches the ducks."
"A great pike!" cried Dick, standing up to try and catch sight of the
tyrant of the waters.
"Ay! One as likes duck for dinner. He'll eat him without picking his
feathers off."
"Wasn't it a very big one, Dave?" cried Tom.
"Ay, lad, a thirty-pounder like enew," said Dave, working his pole.
"Dave, shall you know this place again?" cried Dick.
"Should I know my own hand!"
"Then let's come over and try for that fellow to-morrow or next day."
"Right, lad! I'll come. We'll set some liggers, and I dessay we can
get hold of him. If we can't theer's plenty more."
"To-morrow, Dave?"
"Nay, I shall be getting off my ducks. Two hundred wants some seeing
to."
"Next day, then?"
"Say Saturday, my lads. That'll give me time to get a few baits."
So Saturday was appointed for the day with the pike, and the ducks and
the boys were duly landed, the latter to go homeward with four couples
each, and Dick with strict orders to ask the squire whether he wanted
any more, before they were sent off in Hickathrift's car to the town.
CHAPTER NINE.
DICK IS CALLED EARLY.
It was Friday night. Dick had been over with the squire and two or
three gentlemen interested in the great drain, to see how it progressed;
and the lad had found the young engineer in charge of the works ready to
ask him plenty of questions, such as one who had a keen love of the
natural objects of the country would be likely to put.
The result was that Squire Winthorpe invited him over to the old Priory
to come and make a fishing, shooting, or collecting trip whenever he
liked.
"You are very hospitable, Mr Winthorpe," he said.
"Oh, nonsense! Shame if we who bring you people down from London to do
us good here in the fens, could not be a little civil."
This was after the inspection was over, the young engineer at liberty,
and he was walking part of the way back with Dick.
"Well, I must frankly say, Mr--ought I to say Squire Winthorpe?"
"No, no, Mr Marston," was the laughing reply, "I am only a plain
farmer. It is the fashion down here to call a man with a few acres of
his own a squire. I'm squire, you see, of a lot of bog."
"Which we shall make good land, Mr Winthorpe," said the engineer. "But
I was going to say it will be a treat to come over from my lonely
lodgings to some one who will make me welcome, for I must say the common
people here are rather ill-disposed."
"Only snarling," said the squire. "They daren't bite. They don't like
any alterations made. Take no notice of their surly ways. The soreness
will soon wear off. Cruel thing to do, Mr Marston, turn a piece of
swamp into a wholesome field!"
They both laughed, and soon after parted.
"I rather like that young fellow, Dick," said the squire. "Knows a deal
about antiquities. Little too old for a companion for you, but people
who collect butterflies and nettles and flowers generally mix regardless
of age."
"Do you think the people about will interfere with the works, father?"
said Dick, as they trudged along homeward.
"No, I don't, Dick," said the squire. "I should like to catch them at
it."
Dick went to bed that night very tired, and dropped asleep directly,
thinking of Dave and the expedition to set trimmers, or "liggers" as
they called them, and he was soon in imagination afloat upon the lanes
and pools of water among the reeds, with Dave softly thrusting down his
pole in search of hard places, where the point would not sink in. Then
he dreamed that he had baited hook after hook, attached the line to a
blown-out bladder, and sent it sailing away to attract the notice of
some sharking pike lurking at the edge of one of the beds of reeds.
Then he dreamed that the sun was in his eyes as it went down in a rich
glow far away over the wide expanse of water and rustling dried reed,
where the starlings roosted and came and went in well-marshalled clouds,
all moving as if carefully drilled to keep at an exact distance one from
the other, ready to wheel and turn or swoop up or down with the greatest
exactness in the world.
That dreamy imagination passed away, and he became conscious that he was
having his morning call, as he termed it, and for which he always
prepared when going to bed by pulling up the blind and drawing aside the
white curtains, so that the sun who called him should shine right in
upon his face.
For the sun called Dick Winthorpe when he shone, and as the lad lay upon
his side with his face toward the window the sun seemed to be doing his
morning duty so well that Dick yawned, stretched, and lay with his eyes
closed while the glow of red light flooded his room.
"Only seem to have just lain down," he grumbled, keeping his eyes more
tightly shut than ever. "Bother! I wish I wasn't so drowsy when it's
time to get up!"
At last he opened his eyes, to stare hard at the light, and then with a
cry full of excitement, he threw off the clothes and leaped out of bed,
to rush to the window.
"Oh!" he ejaculated; and darting back to the bed-side he hurried on his
trousers, opened his door, and the next moment his bare feet padded over
the polished oak floor as he made for his father's room and thumped at
the door.
"Father, quick!--father!"
"Hallo! Any one ill?" cried the squire, for thieves and burglars were
known only by repute out there in the fen.
"Tallington's farm's in a blaze!" cried Dick, hoarsely.
He heard a thump on the floor, a hasty ejaculation from his mother, and
then ran back to his own room to finish dressing, gazing out of his
window the while, to see that the bright glow about Grimsey was
increasing, and that a golden cloud seemed to be slowly rising up
through the still air.
"Now, Dick!" shouted his father, "run down and rouse up the people at
the cottages."
Dick ran out, and down past the old Priory ruins, to where a cluster of
cottages, half-way to Hickathrift's, were occupied by the people who
worked upon the farm; and, distant as the fire was, he could yet see the
ruddy glow upon the water before him.
Half-way there, he heard a shout:
"Who's there!"
It was in a big bluff voice, which Dick recognised at once.
"That you, Hicky? Fire! fire!"
"Ay, my lad, I was coming to rouse up the folk. You go that end, I'll
do this. Hey! Fire! Fire!"
He battered cottage door after cottage door, Dick following his example,
with the result that in their alarm the people came hurrying out like
bees whose hive has been disturbed by a heavy blow.
There was no need to ask questions. Every man, while the women began to
wail and cry, started for the Tallingtons' farm; but they were brought
up by a shout from the squire.
"What are you going to do, men?" he cried.
"The fire!"--"help!"--"water!"--rose in a confused babble.
"Back, every one of you, and get a bucket!" cried the squire. "You,
Hickathrift, run into the wood-house and bring an axe."
"Aw, reight, squire!" cried the wheelwright, and in another minute every
man was off at a trot following Dick's father, and all armed with a
weapon likely to be of service against the enemy which was rapidly
conquering the prosperous little farm at Grimsey.
Two miles form a long distance in a case of emergency, and before the
party were half-way there they began to grow breathless, and there was a
disposition evinced to drop into a walk. One or two of those in advance
checked their rate, others followed, and for the next two or three
hundred yards the rescuers kept to a foot-pace, breathing heavily the
while, and speaking in snatches.
"Which is it, Dick--the house or the great stack?"
"I can't see, father," panted the lad; "sometimes it seems one,
sometimes both."
"Stacks, squire, I think," cried Hickathrift. "I don't think house is
afire yet, but it must catch the thack before long."
The faint sound of a dog barking at a distance now reached their ears,
but it was evidently not from the direction of the farm, and the
squire's thoughts were put into words by Dick, who, as he looked on now
between his father and the wheelwright, exclaimed in a hoarse voice:
"Why, father, don't they know that the place is on fire?"
"Nay, that they don't," cried the wheelwright excitedly. "They're all
asleep."
"Let's run faster," cried Dick.
"No. We have a long way to go yet," cried the squire, "and if we run
faster we shall be too much exhausted to help."
"But, father--oh, it is so dreadful!" cried Dick, as in imagination he
pictured horror after horror.
"Can you run, Dick--faster?"
"Yes, father, yes."
"I can't," panted Hickathrift; "I've growed too heavy."
"Run on, then, and shout and batter the door. We'll get up as quickly
as we can."
"Ay, roon, Master Dick, roon!" cried the wheelwright. "Fire's ketched
the thack."
Dick doubled his fists, drew a long breath, and made a rush, which took
him fifty yards in advance. Then he trotted on at the same pace as the
others; rushed again; and so on at intervals, getting well ahead of the
rest. But never, in the many times he had been to and fro, had he so
thoroughly realised how rough and awkward was the track, and how long it
took to get to Grimsey farm.
As he ran on, it was with the fire glowing more brightly in his face,
and the various objects growing more distinct, while there was something
awful in the terrible silence that seemed to prevail, in the midst of
which a great body of fire steadily rose, in company with a cloud of
smoke, which was spangled with tiny flakes that seemed to be of gold.
Tree, shed, barn, and chimney-stack, too, seemed to have been turned to
the brilliant metal; but to the lad's great relief he saw that the
wheelwright was wrong, the "thack" had not caught, and so far the house
was safe, though the burning stacks were so near that at any moment the
roof of the reed-thatched house might begin to blaze.
At last there was a sound--one that might have been going on before, but
kept by the distance from reaching Dick's ear--a cock crowed loudly, and
there was a loud cackling from the barn where the fowls roosted.
Then came the lowing of a cow; but all was perfectly still at the house,
and it seemed astounding that no one should have been alarmed.
Only another hundred yards or so and the farm would be reached. Dick
had settled down to a much slower speed. There was a sensation as if
the fire that shone in his face had made his breath scorching, so that
it burned his chest, while his feet were being weighted with lead.
"Tom!" he tried to shout as he drew near; but his voice was a hoarse
whisper, and it seemed to be drowned by the steady beat of the feet
behind upon the road.
"Tom!" he cried again, but with no better result, as he staggered on by
the wide drain which ran right up to the farm buildings from the big
pool in the fen where the reeds were cut.
And now that full drain and the pool gleamed golden, as if they too were
turned to fire, as Dick pushed by, realising that the hay-stack, the
great seed-stack, and the little stack of oats were blazing together,
not furiously, but with the flame rising up in a steady silent manner
which was awful.
There was a rough piece of stone in the way, against which Dick caught
his foot and nearly fell; but he saved himself, stooped, and picked up
the stone; and as he panted up to the long low red-brick farm, he hurled
it through a window on his left, and then fell up against, more than
stopped at, the door, against which he beat and kicked with all his
might.
The crashing in of the leaded pane casement had, however, acted like the
key which had unlocked the silent farmstead.
Tom Tallington rushed to the window.
"Who's--"
He would probably have said "that," but he turned his sentence into the
cry of "Fire! fire!"
The alarm spread in an instant. Farmer Tallington's window was thrown
open; and as he realised all, he dashed back, and then the rest of the
party came panting up, and Hickathrift cried, "Stand clear, Mester
Dick!"
He threw himself against the door, to burst it open, just as the farmer
came down, half carrying his wife wrapped in a blanket, and Tom ran out,
to dart down to the end of the long low building where a second tenement
formed the sleeping-place of the two men and a big lad who worked upon
the farm.
They were already aroused, and came out hurrying on their clothes, while
the squire and Hickathrift got out the women, who, with Mrs Tallington,
were hurried into a cart-shed.
"Why, neighbour, you'd have been burned in your bed!" cried the squire.
"Now, lads, all of you form line."
"She's caught now!" shouted Hickathrift, who had been round to the back.
"Then we must put it out," said the squire, as he busily ranged his men,
and those of Farmer Tallington, so that they reached from the nearest
point of the big drain to the corner of the farm, and in a double line,
so that full buckets of water could be passed along one and returned
empty along the other.
"Hickathrift, you go and dip."
"Ay, ay, squire!" roared the great fellow, and he rushed down to the
water's edge like a bull, while the squire went to the other end.
"Neighbour," cried Farmer Tallington excitedly, "you'll go on, wean't
you? I must get in and bring out a few writings and things I'd like to
save."
"Here, Tom, let's you and me get out the clothes and things."
"Yes, and the small bits of furniture, boys," cried the squire. "Now,
my lads, ready!"
There was a general shout from the men, who fell into their places with
the promptitude that always follows when they have a good leader.
"Get all you can out in case," shouted the squire; "but we're going to
save the house."
"Hurrah!" shouted the men as they heard this bold assertion, which the
squire supplemented by saying between his teeth, "Please God!"
"Bring up that ladder," cried the squire--"two of them."
These were planted against the end of the house, and none too soon, for
the corner nearest the burning stacks was beginning to blaze furiously,
and the fire steadily running up, while a peculiar popping and crackling
began to be heard as the flames attacked the abundant ivy which mounted
quite to the chimney-stack.
"Ho! ho! ho! ho!" came now from the front of the cart-shed in a regular
bellowing cry.
"What is it, wench--what is it?" cried Farmer Tallington, as he hurried
out of the burning house, laden with valuables, which he handed to his
quiet business-like wife.
"My best Sunday frock! Oh, my best Sunday frock!" sobbed the red-faced
servant lass.
"Yes, and oh my stacks! and oh my farm!" cried her master, as he ran
back into the house after a glance at the squire, who, in the midst of a
loud cheering, stood right up with one foot on the ladder, one on the
thatched roof, and sent the first bucket of water, with a good spreading
movement, as far as he could throw it, and handed back the bucket.
The flames hissed and danced, and there was a rush of steam all along
the ridge, but the water seemed to be licked up directly.
Another was dashed on and the bucket passed back, and another, and
another; but the effect produced was so little that, after distributing
about a dozen which the wheelwright sent along the line, making the men
work eagerly, as he plunged the buckets into the drain and brought them
dripping out, the squire shouted, "Hold hard!" and descended to change
the position of the long ladder he was on by dragging out the foot till
it was at such an angle that the implement now lay flat upon the thatch,
so that anyone could walk right up to the chimney-stack.
"Now, then!" cried the squire, mounting once more. "We want another
flood just now, my lads, but as there isn't one we must make it."
"It arn't safe," muttered one of the men. "See theer, lad!"
The others needed no telling, as the speaker, who had followed the
squire on to the roof so as to be within reach, now felt the flames
scorch him, though what he had alluded to was the top of the ladder
which was beginning to burn where it lay on the burning thatch, and
crackling and blazing out furiously.
_Whizz-hizz_ rose from the water as the first bucket was thrown with
such effect that the ladder ceased to burn, and, undismayed by the smoke
and flame that floated towards him, the latter in separated patches with
a strange fluttering noise, the squire scattered the water from his
advantageous position, and with good effect, though that part of the
house was now burning fast, the fire having eaten its way through the
thatch into the room below.
Meanwhile, as the burning stacks made the whole place light as day, Dick
and Tom rushed in and out of the house, bringing everything of value
upon which they could lay their hands, to pass their salvage to Mrs
Tallington and the women, who stored them in a heap where they seemed
safe from the flames.
"Look at that, Tom!" cried Dick, as he paused for a few moments to get
breath, and watch his father where he stood high up on the burning roof,
like some hero battling with a fiery dragon.
"Yes, I see," said Tom in an ill-used tone.
"Isn't it grand?" cried Dick. "I wish I was up there. Don't it make
one proud of one's father?"
"I don't see any more to be proud of in your father than in mine," said
Tom stoutly. "Your father wouldn't dare to go into that burning house
like mine does. See there!"
This was as Farmer Tallington rushed into the house again.
Dick turned sharply upon his companion.
"There isn't time to have it out now, Tom," he said in a whisper; "but I
mean to punch your head for this, you ungrateful beggar. Afraid to go
into the house! Why, I'm not afraid to do that. Come on!"
He ran into the house and Tom followed, for them both to come out again
bearing the old eight-day clock.
"Its easy, that's what it is," said Dick. "Hooray, father!" he shouted,
"you'll win!"
It did not seem as if the squire would win, for though he was gradually
being successful in extinguishing the burning thatch, the great waves of
fire which came floating from the blazing stacks licked up the moisture
and compelled him from time to time to retreat.
Fortunately, however, the supply of water was ample, and, thanks to the
way in which Hickathrift dipped the buckets and encouraged the men as he
passed them along, the thatch became so saturated that by the time quite
a stack had been made of the indoor valuables there seemed to be a
chance to leave the steaming roof and attack the burning stacks.
This was done, the ladder being left ready in case of the thatch
catching fire again; and soon the squire was standing as close as he
could get to the nearest stack, and sending in the contents of the
buckets.
There was no hope of saving this, but every bucket of water promised to
keep down the great flashes of fire which floated off and licked at the
farm-house roof as they passed slowly on.
It was a glorious sight. Everything glowed in the golden light, and a
fiery snowstorm seemed to be sweeping over the farm buildings, as the
excited people worked, each dash of water producing a cloud of steam
over which roared up, as it were, a discharge of fireworks.
For some time no impression whatever appeared to be made, but no one
thought of leaving his position; the squire and those nearest to him
were black and covered with perspiration, their faces shining in the
brilliant light, and the leader was still emptying the buckets of water,
when Farmer Tallington ran up to him.
"Let me give you a rest now," he cried.
"Nay, neighbour, I'll go on."
The friendly altercation seemed to be about to result in a struggle for
the bucket, when Dick, who had been in one of the back rooms, came
running out of the house shouting:--
"The stable--the stable is on fire!"
This caused a rush in the direction of the long low-thatched building on
the other side of the house, one of a range about a yard.
There was no false alarm, for the thatch was blazing so furiously, that
at a glance the lookers-on saw that the stable and the cart lodge
adjoining were doomed.
"Did any one get out the horses?" roared Farmer Tallington.
There was no answer, and the farmer rushed on up to the burning building
through tiny patches of fire where the dry mouldering straw was set
alight by the falling flakes.
The squire followed him, and, seeing them enter the dark doorway, Dick
and Tom followed.
It was a long low building with room for a dozen horses; but only two
were there, standing right at the end, where they were haltered to the
rough mangers, and snorted and whinnied with fear.
Each man ran to the head of a horse, and cut the halters, lit by the
glow that came through a great hole burned in the thatched roof, from
which flakes of fire kept falling, while the smoke curled round and up
the walls and beneath the roof in a silent threatening way.
It was easy enough to unloose the trembling beasts; but that was all
that could be done, for the horses shivered and snorted, and refused to
stir.
Both shouted and dragged at the halters; but the poor beasts seemed to
be paralysed with fear; and as the moments glided by, the hole in the
roof was being eaten out larger and larger, the great flakes of burning
thatch falling faster, and a pile of blazing rafter and straw beginning
to cut off retreat from the burning place.
"It's of no use," cried Farmer Tallington, after trying coaxing, main
force, and then blows. "The roof will be down directly. Run, boys,
run!"
"You are coming too, father?" cried Tom.
"Yes, and you, father?" cried Dick.
"Yes, my lads; out with you!"
"Try once more, father," said Dick. "The poor old horses!"
"Yes, but run!" cried the squire. "I must run too. Off!"
There was a rush made through the burning mass fallen from the roof;
and, scorched and half-blind, they reached the door half-blocked by the
anxious men.
"Safe!" cried the farmer. "Here: where's squire?"
As the words left his mouth there was a fierce snorting and trampling,
and those at the door had only just time to draw back, as the two horses
dashed frantically out, and then tore off at full gallop across the
yard.
"Winthorpe!" cried Farmer Tallington. "This way!"
"Father!" cried Dick in an agonised voice, following the farmer into the
burning building; but only to be literally carried out by his companion,
as they were driven back by a tremendous gush of burning thatch and wood
which roared out of the great doorway consequent upon a mass of the roof
falling in.
As soon as he could recover himself, Dick turned to rush in again; but
he was checked by Hickathrift.
"Stand back, bairn! art mad?" he cried. "Not that way."
Dick staggered away, and nearly fell from the tremendous thrust given to
him by the big wheelwright, and as he regained his equilibrium, it was
to see Hickathrift with something flashing in his hand, making for the
other end of the stable, which was as yet untouched.
A few blows from the axe he carried made the rough mud wall collapse,
and, without a moment's hesitation Hickathrift forced his way through
the hole he had broken, and from which a great volume of smoke began to
curl.
Dick would have followed; but Tom clung to his arm, and before he could
get free, during what seemed to be a terribly long period of suspense,
the wheelwright appeared again, and staggered out, bearing the
insensible body of the squire.
For a few minutes there was a terrible silence, and Hickathrift tottered
from the man he had left where he had dragged him on the ground.
For the wheelwright was blinded and half strangled by the smoke, and
reeled like a drunken man.
He recovered though, directly, and seized a bucket of water from one of
the men. With this he liberally dashed the squire's face, as Dick knelt
beside him in speechless agony, and grasped his hand.
For a few minutes there was no sign. Then the prostrate man uttered a
low sigh, and opened his eyes.
"Dick!" he said, as he struggled up.
"Yes, father. Are you much hurt?"
"No, only--nearly--suffocated, my boy; but--but--Oh, I remember! The
horses?"
"They're safe, neighbour," cried Farmer Tallington, taking his hand.
"Mind the knife!" cried the squire. "I remember now. I was obliged to
be very brutal to them to make them stir."
He looked down at the small blade of the pocket-knife he held, closed it
with a snap, and then stared about him at the people in a vacant
confused way.
Several of the men, led by Hickathrift, began to carry pails of water to
the burning stable, and this building being so low, they were not long
in extinguishing the flames.
Hardly had they succeeded in this before the shrieks of the women
gathered together in a low shed drew their attention to the fact that
the roof of the house was once more blazing, and this seemed to rouse
the squire again to action, for, in spite of Hickathrift wanting to take
his place, he insisted upon re-climbing the ladder when the buckets of
water were once more passed along till all further danger had ceased,
and the farm-house escaped with one room seriously damaged and one side
of the thatched roof burned away.
The men still plied the buckets on the burning stacks, but only with the
idea of keeping the flames within bounds, for there was nothing else to
be done. One rick was completely destroyed; the others were fiery
cores, which glowed in the darkness, and at every puff of wind sent up a
cloud of glittering, golden sparks, whose course had to be watched lest
a fresh fire should be started.
And now the excitement and confusion died out as the fire sank lower.
The women returned to the house, and the men, under the farmer's
direction, carried back the household treasures, while Mrs Tallington,
with the common sense of an old-fashioned farmer's wife, spread a good
breakfast in the kitchen for the refreshment of all.
It was a desolate scene at daybreak upon which all gazed. The
half-burned roof of the farm-house, the three smoking heaps where the
three stacks had stood, and the stable roofless and blackened, while the
place all about the house was muddy with the water and trampling.
"Yes," said Farmer Tallington ruefully, "it'll tak' some time to set all
this straight; but I've got my house safe, so mustn't complain."
"Yes; might have been worse," said the squire quietly.
"Ay, neighbour, I began to think at one time," said Farmer Tallington,
"that it was going to be very much worse, and that I was going to have
to bear sad news across to the Toft; but we're spared that, squire, and
I'm truly thankful. Feel better?"
"Better! oh yes, I am not hurt!"
Just then Dick asked a question:
"I say, Mr Tallington, wasn't it strange that you didn't know of the
fire till I came?"
"I suppose we were all too soundly asleep, my lad. Lucky you saw it, or
we might have been burned to death."
"But how did the place catch fire?"
"Ah!" said Farmer Tallington, "that's just what I should like to know.--
Were you out there last night, Tom?" he added after a pause.
"No, father, I wasn't near the stacks yesterday."
"Had you been round there at all?" said the squire.
"No, not for a day or two, neighbour. It's a puzzler."
"It is very strange!" said the squire thoughtfully; and he and Farmer
Tallington looked hard at each other. "You have had no quarrel with
your men?"
"Quarrel! No. Got as good labourers as a man could wish for. So have
you."
"Yes, I have," said the squire; "but those stacks could not catch fire
by accident. Has anybody threatened you?"
"No," replied the farmer thoughtfully. "No! Say, neighbour--no, they
wouldn't do that."
The wheelwright had come up, and stood listening to what was said.
"What do you mean?" said the squire.
"Oh! nothing. 'Tisn't fair to think such things."
"Never mind! Speak out, man, speak out!"
"Well, I was wondering whether some one had done this, just as a hint
that we were giving offence by joining in the drain business."
"No, no!" cried the squire indignantly. "People may grumble and be
dissatisfied; but, thank Heaven, we haven't any one in these parts bad
enough to do such a thing as that, eh, Hickathrift?"
"I dunno 'bout bad enew," said the big wheelwright; "but strikes me
Farmer Tallington's right. That stack couldn't set itself afire, and
get bont up wi'out some one striking a light!"
"No, no!" said the squire. "I will not think such a thing of any
neighbour for twenty miles round. Now, Mr Tallington, come over to my
place and have a comfortable meal; Mrs Tallington will come too."
"Nay, we'll stop and try to put things right."
"Shall I lend you a couple of men?"
"Nay, we'll wuck it oot oursens, and thank you all hearty for what
you've done. If your farm gets alight, neighbour, we'll come over as
you have to us."
"May the demand never arise!" said the squire to himself, as he and his
party trudged away, all looking as blackened and disreputable a set as
ever walked homeward on an early winter's morn.
Dick had made a good meal, and removed the black from his face after
deciding that it would not be worth while to go to bed, when, as he went
down the yard and caught sight of Solomon, he stopped to stare at the
cunning animal, who seemed to be working about his ears like semaphores.
"I've a good mind to make him take me for a long ride!" said Dick to
himself. "No, I haven't. Somehow a lad doesn't care for riding a
donkey when he gets as old as I am."
He walked away, feeling stiff, chilly, and uncomfortable from the
effects of his previous night's work, while his eyes smarted and ached.
"I'll go over and see how old Tom's getting on," he said as he looked
across the cheerless fen in the direction of Grimsey, where a faint line
of smoke rose up toward the sky. "Wonder who did it!"
_Plash_! _plash_! _plash_! _plash_!
He turned sharply, to see, about a hundred yards away, the figure of
gaunt, grim-looking Dave standing up in his punt, and poling himself
along by the dry rustling reeds, a grey-drab looking object in a
grey-drab landscape.
Then, like a flash, came to the lad's memory the engagement made to go
liggering that day, and he wondered why it was that he did not feel more
eager to have a day's fishing for the pike.
_Pee-wit_! _pee-wit_! came from off the water in a low plaintive
whistle, which Dick answered, and in a minute or two the decoy-man poled
his boat ashore, smiling in his tight, dry way.
"Now, then, young mester," he said, "I've got a straange nice lot o'
bait and plenty o' hooks and band, and it's about as good a day for
fishing as yow could have. Wheer's young Tom o' Grimsey?"
"At home, of course!" said Dick in a snappish way, which he wondered at
himself.
"At home, o' course?" said Dave quietly as he stood up in the boat
resting upon the pole. "Why, he were to be here, ready."
"How could he be ready after last night?" said Dick sharply.
Dave took off his fox-skin cap after letting his pole fall into the
hollow of his arm, and scratched his head before uttering a low
cachinnatory laugh that was not pleasant to the ear.
"Yow seem straange and popped [put out of temper] this morning, young
mester. Young Tom o' Grimsey and you been hewing a bit of a fight?"
"Fight! no, Dave; the fire!"
"Eh?" said the man, staring.
"The fire! Don't you know that Grimsey was nearly all burned down last
night?"
Dave loosened his hold of his pole, which fell into the water with a
splash.
"Grimsey! bont down!" he exclaimed, and his lower jaw dropped and showed
his yellow teeth, but only to recover himself directly and pick up the
pole. "Yah!" he snarled; "what's the good o' saying such a word as
that? He's a hidin' behind them reeds. Now, then, lad, days is short!
Coom out! I can see you!"
He looked in the direction of a patch of reeds and alders as he spoke,
and helped himself to a pill of opium from his box.
"Tom Tallington isn't there, Dave!" cried Dick. "I tell you there was a
bad fire at Grimsey last night!"
"Nay, lad, you don't mean it!" cried Dave, impressed now by the boy's
earnestness.
"There was! Look! you can see the smoke rising now."
Dave looked as the lad pointed, and then said softly:
"Hey! bud theer is the roke [smoke or vapour] sewer enough!"
"Didn't you see it last night?"
"Nay, lad; I fished till I couldn't see, for the baits, and then went
home and fitted the hooks on to the bands and see to the blethers, and
then I happed mysen oop and went to sleep."
"And heard and saw nothing of the fire?"
"Nay, I see nowt, lad. Two mile to my plaace from here and two mile
from here to Grimsey, mak's four mile. Nay, I heered nowt!"
"Of course you wouldn't, Dave! The light shone in at my window and woke
me up, and we were all there working with buckets to put it out!"
"Wucking wi' boockets!" said Dave slowly as he stared in the direction
of Tallington's farm. "Hey, but I wish I'd been theer!"
"I wish you had, Dave!"
"Did she blaaze much, mun?"
"Blaze! why, everything was lit up, and the smoke and sparks flew in
clouds!"
"Did it, though?" said Dave thoughtfully. "Now, look here, lad," he
continued, taking out his tobacco-box; "some on 'em says a man shouldn't
tak' his bit o' opium, and that he should smoke 'bacco. I say it's
wrong. If I smoked 'bacco some night I should set my plaace afire,
'stead o' just rolling up a bit o' stoof and clapping it in my mooth."
"I don't know what you mean, Dave," cried Dick.
"Then I'll tell'ee, lad. Some un got smoking his pipe in one of they
stables, and set it afire."
"No, no; some one must have set fire to the stacks."
"Nay!" cried Dave, staring in the lad's face with his jaw dropped.
"Yes; that was it, and father thinks it was."
"Not one o' the men, lad; nay, not one o' the men!" cried Dave.
"No, but some one who doesn't like the drain made, and that it was done
out of spite."
Dave whisked up his pole and struck with it at the water, sending it
flying in all directions, and then made a stab with it as if to strike
some one in the chest and drive him under water.
"Nay, nay, nay," he cried, "no one would do owt o' the soort, lad. Nay,
nay, nay."
"Ah, well, I don't know!" cried Dick. "All I know is that the stacks
were burnt."
"Weer they, lad?"
"Yes, and the stables."
Dave made a clucking noise with his tongue.
"And the house had a narrow escape."
"Hey, bud it's straange; and will Tallington hev to flit [move, change
residence] then?"
"No; the house is right all but one room."
"Eh, bud I'm straange and glad o' that, lad. Well, we can't goo
liggering to-day, lad. It wouldn't be neighbourly."
"No, I shouldn't care to go to-day, Dave, and without Tom. What are you
going to do?"
"Throost the punt along as far as I can, and when I've gotten to the end
o' the watter tie her oop to the pole, and walk over to see the plaace."
"I'll come with you, Dave."
"Hey, do, lad, and you can tell me all about it as we go. Jump in."
Dick wanted no second invitation, and the decoy-man sent the punt along
rapidly, and by following one of the lanes of water pursued a devious
course toward Grimsey, whose blackened ruins now began to come into
sight.
Dick talked away about the events of the night, but Dave became more and
more silent as they landed and approached the farm where people were
moving about busily.
"Nay," he said at last, "it weer some one smoking. Nobody would hev set
fire to the plaace. Why, they might hev been all bont in their beds."
Tom Tallington saw them coming and ran out.
"Why, Dave," he cried, "I'd forgotten all about the fishing, but we
can't go now."
"Nay, we couldn't go now," said the man severely. "'Twouldn't be
neighbourly."
Tom played the part of showman, and took them round the place, which
looked very muddy and desolate by day.
"I say, Dick, do you know how your father made the horses come out?" he
said, as they approached the barn, which had been turned into a stable.
"Hit 'em, I suppose, the stupid, cowardly brutes!"
"No; hitting them wouldn't have made them move. He pricked them with
the point of his knife."
"Did he, though?" said Dave, who manifested all the interest of one who
had not been present.
At last he took his departure.
"Soon as you like, lads," he said; "soon as it's a fine day. I'll save
the baits, and get some frogs too. Big pike like frogs. Theer's
another girt one lies off a reed patch I know on. I shall be ashore
every day till you're ready."
He nodded to them, and pushed off.
"You won't go without us, Dave?" said Dick, as the boat glided away.
"Nay, not I," was the reply; and the boys watched him till he poled in
among the thin dry winter reeds, through which he seemed to pass in a
shadowy way, and then disappear.
CHAPTER TEN.
A TRIMMERING EXPEDITION.
A stormy time ensued, lasting about a fortnight, during which the
draining business was hindered; but, upon the whole, the progress made
was steady, for a number of men were now employed, and the fen people,
who visited the outfall now and then, began to realise what kind of dyke
it was that would run across the great swamp.
At last one evening, as the lads had wandered down to Hickathrift's, and
were talking to the great bluff wheelwright as he worked away with his
axe at roughly shaping the shaft of a sledge, Dave came silently up,
followed by the little decoy-dog; and the first knowledge of his
presence was given by an attack made upon Hickathrift's big lurcher,
which, after showing its teeth angrily, settled down, and seemed to look
scornfully at the little animal, before closing its eyes as if to go to
sleep.
"Hallo, Dave!" cried the lads together; "want us?"
"Nay, I don't want you, my lads."
"Well, then, we want you," cried Tom.
"Eh?"
"To take us out after the pike, as you promised."
"Nay, it would be too cold, and you wouldn't like it."
"How do you know, Dave?" cried Dick. "Come, when shall we start?"
"Well," said Dave, looking about him as if in search of a good piece of
wood which might prove useful, "I dunno. You lads do as you likes; but
if I wanted to go, I sud say as the weather was nicely sattled, and
start to-morrow morning."
The hour was settled, as well as the weather, and after obtaining the
requisite permission the lads were punctual to their time, and found
Dave waiting in his punt, upon whose thwart he was seated gravely tying
a hook on to a stout piece of twisted horse-hair.
"Got everything ready, Dave?" cried Dick.
"Ay, lad; all ready."
"So are we. Look, Dave," cried Dick, swinging up the big basket he
carried, "pork-pie, bread and cheese, and a lump of bacon, and--"
Dave's face twitched as he listened, but he did not speak, only waited;
till, after waiting awhile to whet the man's anxiety, Dick added:
"And a big bottle of beer."
"Oh, I don't want no beer!" grumbled Dave. "Watter's good enough for
me."
"Let's leave it behind, Tom," said Dick archly. "It will only be heavy
in the boat."
"Nay, put it in," said the man with a dry look. "Mebbe the fish would
like a drop. Mak' 'em bite."
The boys laughed, and stepped into the punt, which was soon gliding over
the dark waters that lay in pools and winding lane-like canals, Dave, in
his fox-skin cap, standing up in front and handling the pole, the boys
carefully examining the contents of the boat.
"What's in that bucket, Dave?"
"Never mind; you let it alone," said Dave gruffly; and Dick dropped the
net he was raising from the pail.
"Well, let's look at the basket, Dave."
"Nay; I wean't hev my hooks and lines tangled up just after I've laid
'em ready. Yow two wait and see when we get acrost to wheer the pike
lays."
"Oh, very well!" said Dick in a disappointed tone. "I would have shown
you what we've got in our basket."
"I know what you've got yow telled me," retorted Dave. "I don't want to
look at vittles; I want to taste 'em."
There was a pause, while Dave worked steadily away with his pole.
"I shall be glad when the summer comes again," said Tom.
"So shall I," cried Dick.
"Theer, I towd you so," cried Dave. "I knowed you'd find it ower cowd.
Let's go back."
"Go on with you!" cried Dick; "who said it was cold? I want the summer,
because of the sunshine, and the reeds and rushes turning green again,
and the birds."
"There's plenty o' birds," said Dave.
"Yes, but I mean singing birds, and nesting, and flowers, and the
warmth."
"Theer, I towd you so. You are cowd," cried Dave.
"When I'm cold I'm going to use the pole," said Dick. "I say isn't it
deep here, Dave?"
"Ay, theer's some deep holes hereabouts," said the man, trying in vain
to reach the bottom with his long pole. "They wean't dree-ern they in a
hurry, Mester Dick."
"Good job too, Dave! We don't want our fishing spoiled. Now, then, how
much further are you going?"
"Strite across to wheer we saw that big pike rise, my lad."
"Shall we catch him, Dave?"
"Mebbe yes; mebbe no, my lad. If he wants his dinner, and we sets it
down by his door stoop, he'll tek it. If he's hed his dinner he wean't
touch it."
"Then let's make haste and get there before dinnertime," cried Tom.
"Pole away, Dave."
"Nay, we've got to go quiet-like, my lad. We don't want to scare the
fish, and send 'em to the bottom to lie sulky. Nice wisp o' duck yon."
He nodded to a long string of wild-fowl flying low over the
melancholy-looking water, and they were watched till they disappeared.
"Caught any more in the 'coy, Dave?" asked Dick.
"Few, lad, few. Not enew to tek' to market. Me and John Warren sent
'em wi' the rabbits."
"Ah! he promised us a day with the ferrets. Let's stir him up, Tom.
Now, Dave, do let's begin."
The man shook his head and smiled as if he were enjoying the tantalising
process he put the boys through, and kept on poling till they were quite
a couple of miles from the Toft, when he suddenly laid down his long
pole, and seated himself in the boat by the big basket.
"Now," he said, "if you want to see you shall see;" and he began to take
out carefully so many short fishing-lines, the hook in each case being
carefully stuck in between the osiers so as not to catch. To every one
of these lines was attached a bladder, save and except four, which were
bound to as many black and compressed pieces of cork, which looked as if
they had been washed ashore after doing duty as buoys to some
fishermen's nets.
"Theer we are: ten of 'em," said Dave smiling as if he were anticipating
the pleasure he would feel in getting some monster tyrant pike upon the
hook. "You, young Tom Tallington, pass me that theer boocket."
Tom lifted the bucket, which stood at the side, covered over with some
old pieces of netting, and placed it between Dave's knees in the spot
from which he removed the basket.
"Now you can both hev a look," he said with a sly glance from one to the
other. "Hey, little boys, then; hey, little boys: back yow go!"
This was to a couple of frogs, which had been in the water the bucket
contained, but had climbed up the side, to try and get through the
meshes of the net, but only to force their heads through and hold on
with their claws.
Dave poked one of the frogs with his finger, but the little reptile
swelled itself out, and took hold more tightly of the net.
"Here, let go, will you!" cried Dick, taking the frog between his
fingers gently enough; but the little creature clung more tightly, and
began to squeal loudly, till it was dislodged and dropped into the pail,
the other being shaken free, and falling with a splash beside his
fellow, when there was a tremendous commotion in the pail; for, beside a
couple more frogs, there were about a dozen small fishes scurrying about
in the water.
"Theer," cried Dave, looking up; "what do you say to them for bait, eh?"
"Why, they're gudgeons, Dave!" cried Dick.
"Ay, lad, gudgeons."
"Where did you get them?" asked Tom. "There are no gudgeons in the fen
waters."
"Not as I iver see," said Dave with his quiet laugh. "I went right
across to Ealand, and then walked four mile with my net and that boocket
to Brader's Mill on little Norley stream and ketched 'em theer, and
carried 'em all the way back to the boat--four mile. For, I says, I
should like they boys to ketch a big pike or two, and gudgeons is best
baits I know."
"Better than roach and rudd, Dave?"
"Ay, or perch, or tench, or anything. Carp's a good bait; but you can't
always ketch carps."
"You are a good chap, Dave!" cried Tom.
"Ay, that I am, lads. I say, though, talk 'bout ketching; hev the
squire and Farmer Tallington ketched the chap as sat fire to Grimsey
stables?"
"Nobody set fire to Grimsey stables," said Tom. "It was to the stacks."
"Nay, lad, I knows better than that," cried Dave, shaking his head.
"Why, didn't I see with my own eyes as roof weer all bont off the top o'
stable, and doors gone."
"Yes; but the stable caught fire from the stacks," said Dick.
"Yah! how could it? Why, it's reight the other side o' the house."
"Well, couldn't the sparks and flames of fire float over and set light
to the thatch?" cried Dick.
"Set fire to the thack!" said Dave. "Ah, well, I warn't theer! But hev
they ketched him?"
"No, and not likely to. There, never mind Tallington's stacks; let's
try for the pike."
"Ay, lads, we will," said Dave, and, plunging his hand into the bucket,
he took out a transparent gudgeon, whose soft backbone was faintly
visible against the light; then carefully passing the hook through its
tough upper lip, he dropped it over the side of the boat into the water
directly.
"Theer, lads," he said; "now over with that blether."
Dick seized the line, and as the gudgeon swam off he dropped the bladder
over the side, and it was slowly towed away.
"I wish fishing wasn't so precious cruel," said Tom, as he watched the
bladder dance upon the surface, while the punt was slowly thrust away
from the neighbourhood of the reed-bed, where the big pike was supposed
to lie.
"'Tisn't cruel," said Dick.
"'Tis. How should you like to be that gudgeon with a hook in your
mouth, or the pike when he's caught?"
"Sarve him right for killing all the little fishes," growled Dave,
punting gently along.
"Why did you come fishing?" said Dick sharply.
"'Cause I like it," said Tom frankly; "but it's cruel all the same. Oh,
look! Look!"
They were about fifty yards from where the line with its buoy had been
put over the side, and as Tom had casually looked back he had seen the
bladder give a bob, and then begin to skim along the surface.
"Well, I can see," said Dick, "it's the gudgeon swimming fast."
"Nay," said Dave, ceasing to pull; "something's got it. I shouldn't
wonder if it's the big pike."
The lads breathlessly watched the bladder go skimming along. Every now
and then it gave a bob or two, and then on it went farther and farther
from them toward a patch of reeds all broken down and shattered by the
wind and lying by itself quite a hundred yards from where the bait had
been dropped in.
"Is it the big pike, Dave?" said Dick eagerly.
"Dunno," was the laconic reply. "Mebbe 'tis, mebbe 'tisn't."
"You'll give it time, Dave," cried Tom excitedly, forgetting all his
previous qualms.
"Ay, we'll give him time," said Dave with his face tightened so that the
ruddy portion of his lips had disappeared, and his mouth was represented
by what seemed to be a scar extending right across the lower portion of
his countenance. "Who's going to hook him out?"
"I will," cried Dick quickly. "No, you shall have first go, Tom."
"May I?" cried the lad, flushing.
"Yes; go on. Where's the big hook, Dave?"
"Why, s'pose I forgot it," said Dave slowly.
"You haven't," said Dick. "There's the stick," and he picked up a short
staff.
"Ay, lad, bud there be no hook."
"Now, none of your old games, Dave," cried Dick; "just as if we didn't
know! Come, out with it! You've got it in your pocket."
Dave chuckled, and produced a hook made by bending round a piece of thin
iron rod and sharpening the point.
This hook he inserted in the staff and handed to Dick, who immediately
passed it to Tom, the latter standing up ready to hook the line when the
time should come.
But that was not yet, for the floating bladder was more than a hundred
yards away, and still skimming along.
"Be a long time making up his mind to swallow it," said Dave, slowly and
softly reducing the distance between them and the buoy, and then pausing
while they were still fifty yards away.
"He has stopped now," said Dick in a hoarse whisper as the bladder
gleamed quite white a few yards away from the reeds, and gently rose and
fell in the ripple caused by the wind.
"Why, he's gone!" said Tom in a disappointed tone.
_Bob_ went the bladder as if to contradict him, giving one sharp
movement, and then remaining still once more.
"Nay, he hasn't gone," said Dave. "Give him a bit more time. We'll set
another while we're waiting."
As he spoke he laid the pole across the head of the punt, and quickly
baiting another of his hooks, dropped it over the boat side away from
the direction in which they had to go; and after checking it once or
twice till the bait took the right course, he let it go.
Meanwhile, the lads were impatiently watching the bladder, which now
remained perfectly still; and in imagination they saw a monstrous pike
swallowing the unfortunate gudgeon which bore the hook.
"Theer!" said Dave, rising and taking up his pole. "He've hed plenty
time now. Get the basket ready, young squire Dick. Think it'll hold
him?"
"If it won't we'll curl him round, Dave," said the lad, laughing. "Now
Tom, don't miss."
The boat approached slowly, and Tom was awkwardly placed; but Dave was
prepared for this, and after giving the little vessel a sharp impulse he
thrust down the pole to the bottom, and checked the head, so that the
stern swung round and gave Tom a fair chance, which he stood ready to
seize as the boat drew nearer.
They were soon only about ten yards away, and the bladder remained so
motionless that the lads' hearts sank with disappointment, for it seemed
as if the bait had been left.
"Look out, lad!" said Dave, however, for his quick eyes had detected
what was about to happen, and he gave the boat a tremendous thrust just
as the bladder glided rapidly away.
Tom bent down and made a dart with his hook, and so earnestly that he
would have gone overboard had not Dick caught him in the nick of time.
"Missed him," he cried.
"Here, this awayer," cried Dave. "You was a chap!" and he held up his
pole with the line over it. For when Tom missed, his opportunity came,
the boat gliding so near that he dropped the pole down over the line,
and a tremendous disturbance of the water began.
Tom rushed forward, leaned over the side, and deftly hooked the line
which ran through to the bladder as Dave drew away his pole.
"It's a monster! Oh Dick!" cried Tom, as he drew the bladder in. "Now,
then, catch hold of the line as I draw it in."
"Yah! Why yow make as much on it as if it weer one o' they long
studggins, or a big porpus pig," growled Dave, laughing, as Dick secured
the line. "Haul him in."
"I say! 'Tisn't a very big one, Tom; but he's strong," said Dick,
pulling the captive to the side, for his companion to gaff and lift into
the boat. "Why, it's a perch!"
A perch it was--a fine one with ruddy fins and boldly-barred sides, and,
though fine for his kind, less than three pounds in weight.
"I thowt that was what he was," said Dave, laughing, "when I sin him
skim that theer blether along. Pop him in the basket, lads, and let's
get all the rest of the liggers out, or we shall make a poor time of
it."
He plied the pole vigorously and soon stopped to let the boat glide
towards an opening in the reeds, where a long water-way ran in. Here
another buoyed bait was left, and then they went on to lay another and
another, the old decoy-man, with the knowledge bought by very long
experience, selecting choice spots till the whole set were disposed of
in the course of an hour, over a space far exceeding a mile.
"We shall never recollect where they were all set, Dave," said Dick at
last, as he stood up looking back along the side of one of the big pools
to which they had made their way through what resembled a little river
running among the reeds and joining two great pools together.
"You wouldn't," grumbled the man; "but p'raps I may. Now let's go
reight back, and see if theer's any on, or--don't you think, lads, it's
'bout time to try and ketch me?"
Dick stared.
"He means he wants you to try if he'd take a corner of the pie, Dick, if
you offered it to him as a bait," cried Tom laughing, while Dave's
yellow visage developed into something like a grin.
"Ay, that's it, lad--I feel as if I could coot a loaf in two, and eat
half wi'out winking. Nay, wait and I'll throost the boat up to yon
trees. Hey, look at that!"
He shaded his eyes, and gazed at a large flock of birds flying as
closely together, apparently, as starlings, and hundreds upon hundreds
in number. They were flying swiftly at a good height, when all at once,
as if by a signal, they changed their direction, and, with the accuracy
of drilling, darted down in a great bird stream straight for the earth,
disappearing behind a low patch of willows.
"Golden plovers!" cried Dick, excitedly. "Oh, Dave, if you were there
with a gun!"
"Ay, lad, and I'm here wi' a pole," said Dave. "Niver mind, I may get a
few perhaps wi' my net. Now, then, never mind the pie-wipes; let's wipe
that theer pie."
He rapidly thrust the boat along till it was close to the side of the
mere, where he anchored it with his pole and then leaned over and washed
his hands, which he dried upon a piece of rag.
"Are your hands fishy, Tom?" said Dick.
"No--I washed them."
"Well, then, cut some bread."
The next minute the pie was falling to pieces, the bread undergoing a
change, and the ale sinking rapidly in the stone bottle. After which
the basket was found to contain a certain number of apples, which were
converted into support for the active human beings in the boat, with the
result that the basket was tapped upside down on the edge to get rid of
a few crumbs before the empty pie-dish and stone bottle were replaced,
and the whole tucked away so as to leave all clear.
"Now, lads, I think we ought to do some wuck," cried Dave, seizing the
pole. "I thought so," he added; "I knowed there'd be something here."
"Eh!" cried Tom.
"Don't you see?" said Dick. "There, that bladder's fifty yards from
where it was laid down."
"Hundered," said Dave, plying his pole. "'Fraid it's another peerch."
Dave was wrong, for as they approached the bladder it went off with a
swift dart, and there was a swirl in the water which indicated that a
big fish must be on.
A good ten minutes' chase ensued before Dick was able to hook the line.
"I've got him," he cried: "a monster!"
It certainly was a large pike of probably ten or twelve pounds, but in
spite of its struggles it was drawn close in, with Dave smiling tightly
the while, and ending with a broad grin, for as, in the midst of the
intense excitement connected with their capture, Tom took the line and
Dick leaned forward to gaff the pike, there was a struggle, a splash,
the fish leaped right out of the water, and was gone.
"Hey, but why didn't thou whip the hook into him?" cried Dave.
"I was trying to," said Dick ruefully; "but just as I touched his side
he wagged his tail and went off!"
"Niver mind, lad," cried Dave. "Let's look at the line. Ah, I thowt as
much! Hook's broke."
"Any chance of catching him if we threw in again?" said Tom.
"Nay, he isn't worth trying for. Mebbe he'd bite; mebbe he wouldn't.
He's gone the gainest [nearest] way to his hole. Let's try the next."
The buoy attached to this was not in the place where it had been left,
and for a few minutes the lads looked round in a puzzled way, till, with
a grim smile, Dave thrust the boat close up to a reed patch, when, just
as the punt began to rustle against the long crisp water-grass, a
splashing was heard inside somewhere, and after parting the growth with
his pole Dave stood aside for his companions to see that the bladder
attached to the line had been drawn in for some little distance, and
then caught in the midst of a dense tangle, beyond which a good-sized
fish was tugging to get away.
It needed some effort to force the boat to where the fish was churning
up the water; but at last this was effected, and this time, by leaning
forward and holding Tom's hand as a stay, Dick managed to gaff the
captive and lift it into the boat.
"A beauty!" said Tom, as they gazed at the bronze, green-spotted sides
of the ferocious fish, whose fang-armed jaws closed with a snap upon the
handle of the gaff, from which a strong shake was needed to detach it.
"Yes, but not a quarter as big as the one which got away."
"Nay," growled Dave, "there weren't much differ, lads."
Whatever its size, the pike, a fish of several pounds weight, was placed
alongside of the perch, upon which, by hazard or natural ferocity, it at
once fastened its peculiarly hooked back-teeth, making it almost
impossible to loosen its hold when once its jaws were closed; but the
discussion which followed upon this was interrupted by the sight of the
next bladder sailing away into the broadest part of the pool which they
now entered.
"There's a big one howd o' that bait, my lads," said Dave, "and he'll
give us a race. Shall we leave him?"
"Leave him! no," cried the lads together.
"Ah, you heven't got to pole!" said Dave thoughtfully, as he gazed at
the bladder skimming along a couple of hundred yards away.
"Then let me do the poling," cried Dick eagerly, "I'm not tired."
"Nay," said Dave quietly, "neither you nor me can't do no poling theer.
Watter's nigh upon twenty foot deep, and a soft bottom. Pole's no use
theer."
"What shall we do then?"
"I weer thinking, lad," said Dave, following the direction taken by the
bladder. "He's a makkin for yon way through the reeds into next pool."
"Then let's go there and stop him, Dave," cried Dick.
"Ay, lad, we will. Round here by the side. Longest way's sometimes
gainest way."
Dick looked blank upon seeing the boat's head turned right away from the
fish that was caught. Dave saw it, and handed him the pole.
"Give her a few throosts, lad," he said.
Dick seized the pole and thrust it down into the water lower and lower
till his hands touched the surface.
He tried again and again, but there was no bottom within reach, and the
lad handed back the pole.
"Why, you knew it was too deep here!" he cried.
"Ay, I knowed, lad," said Dave, taking the pole; "but yow wouldn't hev
been saddisfied wi'out trying yoursen."
He proceeded to row the punt now for a few yards, till, apparently
knowing by experience where he could find bottom, he thrust down the
pole again, gave a few vigorous pushes, and was soon in shallow water.
It was a bit of a race for the river-like opening, but Dave sent the
punt along pretty merrily now, while the bladder came slowly along from
the other direction till it was only about fifty yards away, when there
was a series of bobs and then one big one, the bladder which gleamed
whitely on the grey water going down out of sight.
Dave ceased poling, and all watched the surface for the return of the
bladder, as whale-fishers wait for the rising of the great mammal that
has thrown his flukes upward and dived down toward the bottom of the
sea; but they watched in vain.
A minute, two minutes, five minutes, then quite a quarter of an hour,
but no sign of the submerged buoy.
"Yow two look over the sides," said Dave. "I'll run her right over
where the blether was took down."
Dave sent the punt along slowly, and the lads peered down into the dark
water, but could see no bladder.
"She'll come up somewheers," said Dave at last, sweeping the surface
with his keen eyes, and then smiling in his hard, dry, uncomfortable
way, as he looked right back over the way by which they had come, and
nodding his head, "There she is!" he said.
Sure enough there lay the bladder on the surface forty yards behind them
perfectly motionless.
"Yow take howd o' this one, young Tom Tallington," said Dave; and the
lad prepared to hook the line as the punt was carefully urged forward.
"Take care, Tom!" whispered Dick excitedly. "Now, now! Oh, what a
fellow you are!"
Tom did not dash in the hook when his companion bade him, but all the
same he managed to do it at the right time, catching the line just below
the bladder, and then stooping to seize it with his hand ready for the
struggle which was to ensue.
Both boys were flushed with excitement, and paid no heed to the grim
smile upon their companion's face--a smile which expanded into a grin as
the line came in without the slightest resistance, and the lads looked
at each other with blank dismay.
"Clap the line in the basket, Mester Dick," said Dave; "he's took the
bait and gone."
"Why, what a big one he must have been!" cried Tom.
"Ah, he would be a big one!" said Dave with a chuckle, as he urged the
punt rapidly on; "them as gets away mostlings is."
"Didn't you feel him a bit, Tom?" asked Dick.
"No, he had gone before I touched the line," was the reply.
It was very disappointing; but there were the other trimmers to be
examined, and though it would have puzzled a stranger, Dave went back
with unerring accuracy to the next one that had been laid down.
This did not seem to have moved; and as it was drawn in, the bait was
swimming strongly and well.
"Let him go, Dick," said Tom.
"Well, I was going to, wasn't I?" was the reply. "There you are, old
chap, only got a hole in your gristly lip."
He dropped the gudgeon into the water, and it lay motionless for a
moment or two, and then darted downward as the punt glided on.
Another trimmer, and another, and another, was taken up as it was
reached, all these with the baits untouched, and the disappointed look
grew upon the boys' faces.
"I thought we should get one on every hook," said Tom. "Ar'n't we going
to catch any more?"
"Why, you've got two," said Dave.
"Well, what are two, Dave?" cried Dick.
"More'n I've got many a day," said the man. "I often think I'd like a
pike to stuff and bake; but lots o' times I come and I never get one.
There's one for you yonder."
"Is there--where?" cried Tom.
Dave nodded in the direction of the little bay they were approaching,
and it was plain to see that the bladder had been drawn close in to the
boggy shore.
"Oh, he's gone!" cried Tom. "I don't believe there's one on."
Tom was wrong, for upon the spot being reached the bladder suddenly
became, as it were, animated, and went sailing along bobbing about on
the surface, then plunging down out of sight, to come up yards away.
"There's a niste one on theer, lads," said Dave. "Yow be ready with the
hook, Mester Dick, and yow kneel down ready to ketch the line, young Tom
Tallington."
It was quite a long chase; the bladder bobbing and dancing away till
Dave forced the punt pretty near, and by a back stroke Dick caught the
line, drew it near enough for Tom to seize, when there was a tremendous
splash and plunge, and Tom fell backwards.
"Gone!" cried Dick in a passion of angry disappointment.
"Gone!" said Tom dolefully, "and I'd nearly got him over the side!"
"Ay, that's the way they gooes sometimes," said Dave, sending on the
boat. "Put the band in the basket, lads. Better luck next time."
"Why, the line's broken!" cried Dick, handing it to its owner.
"Sawed off agen his teeth," said Dave, after a glance. "Theer, put 'em
away, lad. He's theer waiting to be ketched again some day. Theer's
another yonder. Nay, he hesn't moved."
This one was taken up, and then others, till only two remained, one of
which was set where the great pike had been seen which took down the
duck. One had not been touched, but had had the bait seized and gnawed
into a miserable state; another bait was bitten right off cleanly close
to the head; while another had been taken off the hook; and one bait had
probably been swallowed, and the line bitten in two.
"We are having bad luck," cried Dick dolefully. "I thought we should
get a basket full."
"I didn't," said Dave. "Nivver did but once. Here, we'll tak' yon last
one up first, and come back along here and tak' up the big one, and go
thruff yon reed-bed home."
"Big one!" said Tom.
"You don't think he's on, do you?" cried Dick.
"Hey, lad, how do I know! Mebbe he is."
"Then let's go at once," cried Dick excitedly.
"Nay, nay, we'll try yon one first," said Dave, for both the remaining
trimmers were in sight, and though not where they had been laid down,
they seemed to be no farther off than a lively bait and the wind might
have taken them.
"Theer, lads, yow'll hev to be saddisfied wi' what yow've got. No more
to-day."
"Oh, very well!" said Dick; "but I wish we'd got something more to eat."
"There's one on," said Tom excitedly, as they neared the most remote of
the two trimmers.
"How do you know?"
"Saw it bob."
"Yah! It doan't move."
Dick glanced at Dave, whose face was inscrutable, and then the bladder
seemed to be motionless, and as if Tom's "bob" was all imagination.
Once more it seemed to move slightly, but it was nothing more than the
bait would cause.
"In wi' it, lads," cried Dave. "You, young Tom. I wean't stop. Ketch
it as we go by."
Tom reached over and thrust in the hook, just catching the line as the
trimmer seemed to be gliding away.
"Something on," he shouted, as he got hold of the line with his hands,
and threw down the hook into the boat. For there was a strong sturdy
strain upon the cord; and but for the progress of the boat being
checked, either the line would have been broken, or Tom would have had
to let go.
"Why, you've got hold of a stump!" cried Dick. "What shall we do,
Dave--cat the line?"
"Howd on, lads, steady! Ah, that's moved him!"
For just then, in place of the steady strain, there were a series of
short sharp snatches.
"Eel, eel!" cried Dick; and at the end of a few minutes' exciting play,
a huge eel was drawn over the side of the boat, tied up in quite a knot,
into which it had thrown itself just at the last.
"Coot the band close to his neb," [mouth or beak] said Dave, and this
being done, and the line saved from tangling, the captive untwisted
itself, and began to explore the bottom of the boat, a fine thick fellow
nearly thirty inches long, and the possibility was that it might escape
over the stern, till Dave put a stop to the prospect by catching it
quickly, and before it could glide out of his hand, throwing it into the
basket, where the pike resented its coming by an angry flapping of the
tail.
"That's better," said Dick, placing the trimmer in the other basket. "I
say, Dave, would a fellow like that bite?"
"Nigh tak' your finger off: they're as strong as strong. Say, lads,
shall we go home now, or try the other ligger?"
"Oh, let's get the last!" cried Dick; "there may be something on it."
Dave nodded, and poled steadily over to where the last trimmer lay off
the reedy point, and perfectly motionless, till they were within ten
yards, when there was a heavy swirl on the water, and the bladder dived
under, reappeared a couple of dozen yards away, and went off rapidly
along beside the reed-bed.
"Is that another perch?" cried Tom, as Dave began to ply his pole
rapidly, and the boat was urged on in pursuit.
"Nay, that's no perch," cried Dave, who for the first time looked
interested. "It's a pike, and a good one."
"Think it's that monster that took down the duck?" cried Dick.
"Nay, lad, I d'know," said the decoy-man; "all I say is that it be a
girt lungeing pike o' some kind."
Dave plied his pole, and the boys, in their excitement, turned each a
hand into an oar, and swept it through the water as the pursuit was kept
up, for the bladder went sailing away, then stopped, and as soon as the
punt drew near was off again. Sometimes it kept to the surface, but now
and then, when in places where Dave's pole would not touch the bottom,
no sooner did the punt glide up, than there was an eddying swirl, and
the bladder was taken down out of sight.
Once or twice Dick made a dash at it with the hook, but each time to
miss, and they were led a pretty dance.
"He's a girt big un, lads, a very girt big un," said Dave, as he rested
for a moment or two with the end of the pole in the water, waiting for
the bladder to reappear, and then rowed the punt softly in the direction
in which it was gliding. "Says, shall a give 'em up?"
"No, no," cried Dick. "Here, lend me the pole. I'll soon catch him."
Dave smiled, but did not give up the pole.
"Nay, lad, I'll ketch up to un. Wait a bit; fish'll be tired 'fore Dave
Gittans."
The pursuit continued in the most exasperating way, and to an onlooker
it would have been exceedingly absurd, since it seemed as if the man and
his companions were off oh the great mere with its open spaces of water
and islands of reeds, and lanes through them like so many little crooked
canals, in pursuit of a white pig's-bladder tied round the middle to
make it double. There it would lie till the boat neared, and then off
it went with a skim that took it twenty, thirty, or forty yards. Next
time the boat neared, instead of the skim it would begin to dance as if
in mockery, bobbing down whenever Dick reached over with his hook, and
always keeping out of his reach, just as if a mocking spirit directed
all its movements and delighted in tantalising them. Again, after a
long run over the deep water, it would be quite still, and the punt
would be sent forward so cautiously that the capture seemed to be a
moral certainty; but so sure as Dick crept to the extreme end of the
punt and reached out, there was a tremor for an instant visible on the
water and the bladder disappeared.
"He must be a monster!" cried Dick, whose face was scarlet. "Oh, Dave,
do go more quietly this time!"
"Let me try!" cried Tom, making a snatch at the hook.
"No! I'll have him," said Dick. "I wouldn't miss this chance for the
world!"
"Ay, I'll goo up quiet-like," said Dave, pausing to give himself an
opium pill before resuming his task. "Yow be quicker this time, lad--a
bold dash and you'll get him!"
The double-looking bladder seemed now to be quite divided in two, for
the string had grown tighter in being drawn through the water, and as it
lay quite still, about forty yards from them, it looked a task that a
child might have done, to go up to it softly and hook the string.
"Now!" said Dave as he propelled the boat stern foremost by working the
pole behind as a fish does its tail.
"Oh! do get it this time, Dick!" panted Tom as he knelt in the boat.
"One quick dash, Mester Dick, and you hev it!"
Dick did not answer, but lay prone upon his chest well out over the
stern of the boat, holding on with one hand, the hook stretched out over
the water, ready, his heart beating and his eyes glittering with
excitement.
As the punt glided on Dick's face was reflected in the dark amber-tinted
water--for there was not a ripple made--but he saw nothing of the glassy
surface; his eyes were riveted upon the gleaming white bladder, into
which the string had cut so deeply.
Another moment or two and he would be within striking distance, but a
glance at his hook showed that, perhaps from looseness in its socket,
the point was turned too much away.
He had barely time to turn it, as the moment arrived to strike, and
strike he did, just as the bladder was plunging down.
A yell came from behind him from Dave!
A groan from Tom!
Dick rose up in the boat with a feeling of misery and disappointment,
such as he had never before experienced, for he was perfectly conscious
of what he had done. The bladder had been snatched under so quickly,
that when he struck, instead of the hook going beneath and catching the
string, the point had entered the bladder. He had even felt the check,
and knew that he had torn a hole in the side.
"Hey, but yow've done it now, Mester Dick!" said Dave, laying the pole
across the boat and sitting down.
"I couldn't help it, Dave. I did try so hard!" pleaded the lad.
"And you wouldn't let me try--obstinate!" grumbled Tom.
"Deal better you'd have done it, wouldn't you!" cried Dick in an
exasperated tone.
"Done it better than that!" cried Tom hotly.
"Nay, yow wouldn't, lad," said Dave coolly. "It's a girt big un, and
he's too sharp for us. Well, it's getting on and we may as well go
home. He's gone! Blether wean't come to the top no more!"
"But will he take a bait again, Dave?" said Dick; "I mean, if we come
another time."
"Will yow want any dinner to-morrow, lad?" said Dave, laughing. "Ay,
he'll tek a bait again, sure enough, and we'll hev him some day! Theer,
it's getting late; look at the starnels sattling down on the reeds!"
He pointed to the great clouds of birds curving round in the distance as
he stooped and picked up the pole, ready to send the punt homewards, for
the evening was closing in, and it would be dark before they reached the
shore.
"What's that?" cried Tom suddenly, as he swept the surface of the water,
and he pointed to a faint white speck about twenty yards away.
"Hey? Why, it is!" cried Dave. "Tek the hook again, Mester Dick, lad;
there's a little wind left yet in th' blether, and it's coom oop!"
"Let me!" cried Tom.
"Shall I do it, lad?" said Dave.
"No, let me try this once!" cried Dick. "Or, no; you try, Tom!"
Tom snatched at the staff of the hook, but offered it back to his
companion.
"No, Dick," he said; "you missed, and you've a right to try again!"
"No, you try!" said Dick hurriedly, as he thrust his hands in his
pockets to be out of temptation.
"Nay, let Mester Dick hev one more try!" cried Dave; and the lad took
the staff, went through all his former manoeuvres, struck more deeply
with the staff, and this time, as he felt a check, he twisted the hook
round and round in the string, and felt as if it would be jerked out of
his hand.
"Twist un again, mun! Get well twissen!" cried Dave; and as the lad
obeyed, the punt, already in motion, was for a short distance literally
drawn by the strong fish in its desperate efforts to escape.
"Let me come this time, young Tom Tallington!" cried Dave.
"No, no; I'll help!" cried Tom.
"But I shouldn't like you to lose this un, lads. Theer, go on and
charnsh it. You get well howd o' the band while young squire untwisses
the hook. He's 'bout bet out now and wean't mak' much of a fight!"
Tom obeyed, and Dick, who was trembling with excitement, set the hook at
liberty.
Meanwhile the fish was struggling furiously at the end of some fifteen
feet of stout line; but the fight had been going on some time now, and
at the end of a few minutes, as Dave manoeuvred the punt so as to ease
the strain on the line, Tom found that he could draw the captive slowly
to the surface.
"Tak' care, Mester Dick, throost hook reight in his gills, and in wi' un
at onced."
Dick did not reply, but stood ready, and it was well that he did so, for
as Tom drew the fish right up, such a savage, great, teeth-armed pair of
jaws came gaping at him out of the water, that he started and stumbled
back, dragging the hook from its hold.
But before he could utter a cry of dismay there was a tremendous sputter
and splash, for Dick had been in time, and, as the fish-hook was
breaking out, had securely caught the pike with the gaff.
The next moment, all ablaze in the evening light with green, and gold,
and silver, and cream, the monster was flopping on the floor of the
punt, trying frantically to leap out, and snapping with its jaws in a
way that would have been decidedly unpleasant for any hand that was
near.
The monster's career was at an end, though. A heavy blow on the head
stunned it, and a couple more put it beyond feeling, while the occupants
of the boat stood gazing down at their prize, as grand a pike as is
often seen, for it was nearly four feet long, and well-fed and thick.
"Look at his teeth!" cried Tom excitedly; "why, there's great fangs full
half an inch long."
"Yes, and sharp as knives!" cried Dick.
"Ay, he've hed nice games in his time here, lads!" said Dave, grinning
with pleasure. "I'm straange and glad you've caught him. Many's the
time I've sin him chase the fish and tak' down the water-rats. One day
he hed howd of a big duck. He got it by its legs as I was going along,
and the poor thing quacked and tried to fly, but down it went d'reckly.
Big pike like this un'll yeat owt."
"And if he got hold of them with these hooked teeth, Dave, they wouldn't
get away."
"Nay, lad, that they wouldn't. He'd take a pike half as big as hissen,
if he got the charnsh."
"Well, he won't kill any more," cried Dick triumphantly. "Oh, Tom, if
we had lost him after all!"
"I'd reyther hev lost a whole tak' o' duck, lads," said Dave, shaking
each of his companions' hands warmly. "There'll be straange games among
all the fishes and birds here, because he's ketched. Look at him!
Theer's a pike, and they're a trying to dree-ern all the watter off from
the fens and turn 'em into fields. Hey, lads, it'll be a straange bad
time for us when it's done."
"But do you think it will take off all the water, and spoil the fen,
Dave?" said Tom.
"Nay, lad, I don't," said Dave with sudden emphasis. "It's agen nature,
and it wean't be done. Hey and we must be getting back."
He plunged the pole into the water as he spoke, and it seemed to grow
blacker and blacker, as they talked pike over their capture, till the
shore was reached, and the prize borne to Hickathrift's workshop, where
a pair of big rough scales showed that within a few ounces the pike
weighed just what Dave guessed, to wit two stone and a half old
Lincolnshire weight of fourteen pounds to the stone, or thirty-five
pounds.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
MR. MARSTON'S NARROW ESCAPE.
The wintry weather passed away with its storms and continuous rains and
floods, which hindered the progress of the great lode or drain, and then
came the spring sunshine, with the lads waking up to the fact that here
and there the arums were thrusting up their glossy-green spathes, that
the celandines were out like yellow stars, and that the rustling reeds
left uncut had been snapped off and beaten down, and had rotted in the
water, and that from among them the young shoots of the fresh crop were
beginning to peep.
Bold brisk winds swept over the fen and raised foamy waves in the meres,
and the nights were clear and cold, though there had been little frost
that year, never enough to well coat the lakes and pools with ice, so
that the pattens could be cleaned from their rust and sharpened at
Hickathrift's grindstone ready for the lads at the old Priory and
Grimsey to skate in and out for miles. But, in spite of the cold, there
was a feeling of spring in the air. The great grey-backed crows were
getting scarce, and the short-eared owls, which, a couple of months
before, could be flushed from the tufts in the fen, to fly off looking
like chubby hawks, were gone, and the flights of ducks and peewits had
broken up. The golden plovers were gone; but the green peewits were
busy nesting, or rather laying eggs without nests--pear-shaped eggs,
small at one end, large at the other, thickly blotched and splashed with
dark green, and over which the birds watched, ready to fall as if with
broken wing before the intruder, and try to lure him away.
Many a tramp over the sodden ground did the lads have with Dave, who
generally waited for their coming, leaping-pole in hand, and then took
them to the peewits' haunts to gather a basketful of their eggs.
"I don't know how you do it, Dave," said Dick. "We go and hunt for
hours, and only get a few pie-wipes' eggs; you always get a basketful."
"It's a man's natur," said Dave.
"Well, show us how you know," said Dick, shouldering his leaping-pole,
and pretending to hit his companion's head.
"Nay, lad, theer's no showing a thing like that," said Dave
mysteriously. "It comes to a man."
"Gammon!" cried Dick. "It's a dodge you've learned."
Dave chuckled and tramped on beside the lads, having enough to do to
avoid sinking in.
"She's reyther juicy this spring, eh? They heven't dree-ernt her yet,"
said Dave with a malicious grin. "See there, now, young Tom
Tallington," he cried, stepping past the lad, and, picking up a couple
of eggs in spite of the wailing of their owners, as they came napping
close by, the cock bird in his glossy-green spring feathers, and a long
pendent tuft hanging down from the back of his head.
"How stupid!" cried Tom. "I didn't see them."
"Nay, you wouldn't," said Dave, stepping across Dick, who was on his
left; "and yow, young squire Dick, didn't see they two."
"Yes, I did, Dave, I did," cried Dick. "I was just going to pick them
up."
"Pick' em up then," cried Dave quietly; "where are they then?" Dick
looked sharply round him; but there was not an egg to be seen, and he
realised that Dave had cheated him, and drawn him into a declaration
that was not true.
He was very silent under the laughter of his companions, and felt it all
the more.
They went on, the lads sometimes finding an egg or two, but nearly all
falling to Dave, who, as if by unerring instinct, went straight to the
spots where the nests lay, and secured the spoil.
Now and then a heron flew up, one with a small eel twining about its
bill; and more than once a hare went bounding off from its form among
the dry last year's grass.
"We want Hickathrift's dog here," cried Dick.
"What for, lad? what for?" said Dave, laughing.
"To catch the hares."
"Nay, yow want no dog," said Dave. "Easy enough to catch hares."
"Easy! How?" cried Tom.
"Go up to 'em and catch 'em," said Dave coolly.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Dick, and his companion joined in. "I should like
to see you catch a hare, Dave."
"Shouldst ta, lad? Very well, wait a bit."
They tramped on, with Dave picking up an egg here, a couple there, in a
way that was most exasperating to the boys, whose luck was very bad.
"I never saw such eyes," said Tom. "I can't see the eggs like he can."
Dave chuckled as if he had a rattlesnake in his throat, and they went on
for a while till Dick stopped suddenly, and pointed to the side of one
of the fen ponds.
"That isn't a heron," he said.
"No. One o' them long-legged ones--a crane," said Dave. "Getting
straange and scarce now. Used to be lots of 'em breed here when my
grandfather was a boy. Nay, nay, don't scar' him," he cried, checking
Dick, who was about to wave his hands. "Niver disturb the birds wi'out
you want 'em to eat or sell. Now, then: yonder's a hare."
"Where?" cried Tom. "I can't see it."
"Over yonder among that dry grass."
"There isn't," said Dick. "I can't see any hare."
"Like me to go and catch him, young Tom?"
"Here, I'll soon see if there's a hare," cried Dick; but Dave caught him
by the shoulder with a grip of iron, and thrust the pole he carried into
the soft bog.
"I didn't say I was going to run a hare down," he said. "Theer's a hare
yonder in her form. Shall I go and catch her?"
"Yes," said Dick, grinning. "Shall I say, `Sh!'"
"Nay, if thou'rt going to play tricks, lad, I shall howd my hand. I
thowt yow wanted to see me ketch a hare."
"Go on, then," said Dick, laughing; "we won't move."
Dave chuckled, swung his basket behind him as if hung by a strip of
cow-hide over his shoulder, and walked quietly on, in and out among the
tufts of heather and moss, for some five-and-twenty yards.
"He's laughing at us," said Dick.
"No, he isn't. I've heard Hickathrift say he can catch hares," replied
Tom. "Look!"
For just then they saw Dave go straight up to a tuft of dry grass, stoop
down and pick up a hare by its ears, and place it on his left arm.
The boys ran up excitedly.
"Why, Dave, I didn't think you could do it!" cried Dick.
"Dessay not," replied the decoy-man, uttering his unpleasant laugh.
"Theer, she's a beauty, isn't she?"
The hare struggled for a moment or two, and then crouched down in the
man's arm, with its heart throbbing and great eyes staring round at its
captors.
"Kill it, Dave, kill it," cried Tom.
"Kill it! What for? Pretty creatur'," said Dave, stroking the hare's
brown speckled fur, and laying its long black-tipped sensitive ears
smoothly down over its back.
"To take home."
"Nay, who kills hares at the end of March, lad? Hares is mad in March."
"Is that why it let you catch it, Dave?"
"Mebbe, lad, mebbe, Mester Dick. Theer, hev you done stroking her?"
"No. Why?"
"Going to let her run?"
"Wait a bit," cried Dick.
"Tek her by the ears, lad, and putt thy hand beneath her. That's the
ways."
Dick took the hare in his arms, and the trembling beast submitted
without a struggle.
"How did you know it was there?" said Tom.
"How did I know she was theer! Why, she had her ears cocked-up
listening, plain enough to see. Theer, let her go now. She's got a
wife somewheers about."
"_She's_ got a wife! Why don't you say _He_?" cried Dick. "Now, Tom,
I'm going to let him go; but he won't run, he's a sick one. You'll see.
Anyone could catch a hare like this."
He carefully placed the hare upon the ground, holding tightly by its
ears.
"There," he cried; "I told you so! Look how stupid and--Oh!"
The hare made one great leap, and then hardly seemed to touch the ground
again with its muscular hind-legs; but went off at a tremendous rate,
bounding over heath and tuft, till it disappeared in the distance.
"There's a sleepy sick one for you, Mester Dick!" cried Dave. "Now,
then, goo and ketch her, lad."
"Well, I never!" cried Dick. "I say, Dave, how do you manage it? Could
you catch another?"
"Ay, lad, many as I like."
"And rabbits too?"
"Nay, I don't say that. I hev ketched rabbuds that ways, but not often.
Rabbud always makes for his hole."
As he spoke he walked back to where he had left his pole standing in the
bog earth, and they trudged on again to where a lane of water impeded
their further progress.
"Too wide for you, lads?" said Dave.
"No," replied Dick, "if it's good bottom."
"Good bottom a little higher up here," said Dave, bearing off to the
left. "Now, then, over you go!"
Dick, pole in hand, took a run without the slightest hesitation, for
Dave's word was law. He said there was good bottom to the lane of
water, and he was sure to know, for he had the knowledge of his father
and grandfather joined to his own. If it had been bad bottom Dick's
feat would have been impossible, for his pole would have gone down
perhaps to its full length in the soft bog; as it was, the end of the
pole rested upon gravel in about three feet of water, and the lad went
over easily and describing a curve through the air.
"Look out!" shouted Tom, following suit, and landing easily upon the
other side; while Dave took off his basket of plovers' eggs by slipping
the hide band over his head, then, hanging it to the end of his pole, he
held it over the water to the boys, who reached across and took it
together on their poles, landing it safely without breaking an egg.
The next minute, with the ease of one long practised in such leaps, Dave
flew over and resumed his load.
Several more long lanes of water were cleared in this way, Dave leading
the boys a good round, and taking them at last to his house, pretty well
laden with eggs, where he set before them a loaf and butter, and lit a
fire.
"Theer, you can boil your eggs," he said, "and mak' a meal. Mebbe
you're hungry now."
There was no maybe in the matter, judging from the number of slices of
bread and butter and hard-boiled plovers' eggs the lads consumed.
Over the meal the question of the draining was discussed
sympathetically.
"No fish," said Dick.
"No decoy," said Tom.
"No plovers' eggs," said Dave.
"No rabbiting," said Dick.
"No eeling," said Tom.
"No nothing," said Dave. "Hey bud it'll be a sad job when it's done.
But it arn't done yet, lads, eh?"
"No, it isn't done yet," said Dick. "I say, where's John Warren? I
haven't seen him for months."
"I hev," said Dave. "He's a breaking his heart, lads, about big drain.
Comes over to see me and smoke his pipe. It'll 'bout kill him if his
rabbud-warren is took awaya. Bud dree-ern ar'n't done yet, lads, eh?"
Squire Winthorpe was of a different opinion that night when Dick reached
home after seeing Tom well on his way.
"They're going on famously now," he said to Mrs Winthorpe, who was
repairing the damage in one of Dick's garments.
"And was the meeting satisfied?"
"Yes, quite," said the squire. "We had a big meeting with the gentlemen
from London who are interested in the business, and they praised young
Mr Marston, the engineer, wonderfully fine young fellow too."
Dick pricked up his ears.
"I thought Mr Marston was coming to see us a deal, father!" he said.
"He's been away during the bad weather when the men couldn't work--up in
town making plans and things. He's coming over to-night."
"And do the people about seem as dissatisfied as ever about the work?"
said Mrs Winthorpe.
"I don't hear much about it," said the squire. "They'll soon settle
down to it when they find how things are improved. Well, Dick, plenty
of sport to-day?"
"Dave got plenty of pie-wipes' eggs, father. I didn't find many."
"Got enough to give Mr Marston a few?"
"Oh, yes, plenty for that! What time's he coming?"
"About eight, I should think. He's coming along the river bank after
his men have done."
"And going back, father?"
"Oh no! he'll sleep here to-night."
The squire went out to have his customary look round the farmstead
before settling down for the night, and Dick followed him. The thrushes
were piping; sounds of ducks feeding out in the fen came off the water,
and here and there a great shadowy-looking bird could be seen flapping
its way over the desolate waste, but everywhere there was the feeling of
returning spring in the air, and the light was lingering well in the
west, making the planet in the east look pale and wan.
Everything seemed to be all right. There was a loud muttering among the
fowls at roost. Solomon laid back his ears and twitched the skin of his
back as if he meant to kick when Dick went near the lean-to shed
supported on posts, thatched with reeds and built up against an old
stone wall in which there were the remains of a groined arch.
Everything about the Toft was at peace, and down toward the
wheelwright's the labourers' cottages were so still that it was evident
that some of the people had gone to bed.
The squire went on down the gravel slope, past the clump of firs, and by
the old ivied wall which marked the boundary of the ancient priory,
when, after crossing a field or two, they came to the raised bank which
kept the sluggish river within bounds.
"Looks cold and muddy, father," said Dick.
"Yes, not tempting for a bathe, Dick; but some day I hope to see a river
nearly as big as that draining our great fen."
"But don't you think it will be a pity, father?"
"Yes, for idle boys who want to pass their lives fishing, and for men
like Dave and John Warren. Depend upon it, Dick, it's the duty of every
man to try and improve what he sees about."
"But natural things look so beautiful, father!"
"In moderation, boy. Don't see any sign of Mr Marston yet, do you?"
"No, father," replied Dick after taking a long look over the desolate
level where the river wound between its raised banks toward the sea.
"Can't very well miss his way," said the squire, half to himself.
"Unless he came through the fen," said Dick.
"Oh, he wouldn't do that! He'd come along by the river wall, my boy;
it's longer, but better walking."
The squire walked back toward the house, turning off so as to approach
it by the back, where his men were digging for a great rain-water tank
to be made.
The men had not progressed far, for their way was through stones and
cement, which showed how, at one time, there must have been either a
boundary-wall or a building there; and as they stood by the opening the
latter was proved to be the case, for Dick stooped down and picked up a
piece of ancient roofing lead.
"Yes, Dick, this must have been a fine old place at one time," said the
squire. "Let's get back. Be a bit of a frost to-night, I think."
"I hope not, father."
"And I hope it will, my boy! I like to get the cold now, not when the
young trees are budding and blossoming."
They went in, to find the ample supper spread upon its snowy cloth and
the empty jug standing ready for the ale to be drawn to flank the pinky
ham, yellow butter, and well-browned young fowl.
"No, wife, no! Can't see any sign of him yet," said the squire. "Dick,
get me my pipe. I'll have just one while we're waiting. Hope he has
not taken the wrong road!"
"Do you think he has?" said Mrs Winthorpe anxiously. "It would be very
dangerous for him now it is growing dark."
"No, no; nonsense!" said the squire, filling his pipe from the stone
tobacco-jar Dick had taken from the high chimney-piece of the cosy, low,
oak-panelled room.
It was a curious receptacle, having been originally a corbel from the
bottom of a groin of the old building, and represented an evil-looking
grotesque head. This the squire had had hollowed out and fitted with a
leaden lid.
"Think we ought to go and meet him, father?" said Dick, after watching
the supper-table with the longing eyes of a young boy, and then taking
them away to stare at his mother's glistening needle and the soft grey
clouds from his father's pipe.
"No, Dick, we don't know which way to go. If we knew we would. Perhaps
he will not come at all, and I'm too tired to go far to-night."
Dick bent down and stroked Tibb, the great black cat, which began to
purr.
"Put on a few more turves, Dick, and a bit or two of wood," said his
mother. "Mr Marston may be cold."
Dick laid a few pieces of the resinous pine-root from the fen upon the
fire, and built up round it several black squares of well-dried peat
where the rest glowed and fell away in a delicate creamy ash. Then the
fir-wood began to blaze, and he returned to his seat.
"'Tatoes is done!" said a voice at the door, and the red-armed maid
stood waiting for orders to bring them in.
"Put them in a dish, Sarah, and keep them in the oven with the door
open. When Mr Marston comes you can put them in the best wooden bowl,
and cover them with a clean napkin before you bring them in," said Mrs
Winthorpe.
"Oh, I say, mother, I am so hungry! Mayn't I have one baked potato?"
"Surely you can wait, my boy, till our visitor comes," said Mrs
Winthorpe quietly.
Dick stared across at the maid as she was closing the door, and a look
of intelligence passed between them, one which asked a question and
answered it; and Dick knew that if he went into the great kitchen there
would be a mealy potato ready for him by the big open fireplace, with
butter _ad libitum_, and pepper and salt.
Dick sat stroking the cat for a few minutes and then rose, to go to the
long low casement bay-window, draw aside the curtain, and look out over
the black fen.
"Can't see him," he said with a sigh; and then, as no notice was taken
of his remark, he went slowly out and across the square stone-paved hall
to the kitchen, where, just as he expected, a great potato was waiting
for him by the peat-fire, and hot plate, butter, pepper, and salt were
ready.
"Oh, I say, Sarah, you are a good one!" cried Dick.
"I thought you'd come, Mester Dick," said the maid; and then, with a
start, "Gracious! what's that?"
"Sea-bird," said Dick shortly, and then he dropped the knife and ran
back to the parlour, for another cry came from off the fen.
"Hear that, father!" cried Dick.
"Hear it! yes, my lad. Quick! get your cap. My staff, mother," he
added. "Poor fellow's got in, p'r'aps."
The squire hurried out after Dick, who had taken the lead, and as they
passed out of the great stone porch the lad uttered a hail, which was
answered evidently from about a couple of hundred yards away.
"He has been coming across the fen path," said the squire. "Ahoy! don't
stir till we come."
"Shall we want the lantern, father?" cried Dick.
"No, no, my lad; we can see. Seems darker first coming out of the
light."
A fresh cry came from off the fen, and it was so unmistakably the word
"Help!" that the squire and his son increased their pace.
"Ahoy, there!" cried a big gruff voice.
"Hickathrift?"
"Ay, mester! Hear that! some un's in trouble over yonder."
The wheelwright's big figure loomed up out of the darkness and joined
them as they hurried on.
"Yes, I heard it. I think it must be Mr Marston missed his way."
"What! the young gent at the dreeaning! Hey, bud he'd no call to be out
theer."
"Where are you?" shouted Dick, who was ahead now and hurrying along the
track that struck off to the big reed-beds and then away over the fen to
the sea-bank.
"Here! help!" came faintly.
"Tak' care, Mester Dick!" cried Hickathrift as he and the squire
followed. "Why, he is reight off the path!"
"I'll take care!" shouted Dick. "Come on! All right; it isn't very
soft here!"
Long usage had made him so familiar with the place that he was able to
leave the track in the darkness and pick his way to where, guided by the
voice, he found their expected visitor, not, as he expected, up to his
middle in the soft peat, but lying prone.
"Why, Mr Marston, you're all right!" cried Dick. "You wouldn't have
hurt if you had come across here."
"Help!" came faintly from the prostrate traveller, and Dick caught his
arm, but only to elicit a groan.
"Well, he is a coward!" thought Dick. "Here, father! Hicky!"
"Rather soft, my boy!" said the squire.
"Ay, not meant for men o' our weight, mester," said the wheelwright; and
they had to flounder in the soft bog a little before they reached the
spot where Dick stood holding the young man's cold hand.
"He has fainted with fright, father," said Dick, who felt amused at
anyone being so alarmed out there in the darkness.
"Let me tackle him, mester," said the wheelwright.
"No; each take a hand, my lad," said the squire, "and then let's move
together for the path as quickly as possible."
"Reight!" cried Hickathrift, laconically; and, stooping down, they each
took a hand, and half ran half waded through the black boggy mud, till
they reached the path from which the young man had strayed.
"Poor chap! he were a bit scar'd to find himself in bog."
"Pity he ventured that way," said the squire.
"Here, Mr Marston, you're all right now," said Dick. "Can you get up
and walk?"
There was no answer, but the young man tried to struggle up, and would
have sunk down again had not the squire caught him round the waist.
"Poor lad! he's bet out. Not used to our parts," said Hickathrift.
"Here, howd hard, sir. Help me get him o' my back like a sack, and I'll
run him up to the house i' no time."
It seemed the best plan; and as the young man uttered a low moan he was
half lifted on to Hickathrift's broad back, and carried toward the
house.
"Run on, Dick, and tell your mother to mix a good glass of hollands and
water," said the squire.
Dick obeyed, and the steaming glass of hot spirits was ready as the
wheelwright bore in his load, and the young man was placed in a chair
before the glowing kitchen fire.
"My arm!" he said faintly.
"You wrenched his arm, Hicky," said Dick, "when you dragged him out."
"Very sorry, Mester Dick."
"Ugh!" cried the lad, who had laid his hand tenderly on their visitor's
shoulder.
"What is it?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.
"Blood. He has been hurt," said Dick.
"Shot! Here," said the young man in a whisper; and then his head sank
down sidewise, and he fainted dead away.
Mr Marston's faintly-uttered words sent a thrill through all present,
but no time was wasted. People who live in out-of-the-way places, far
from medical help, learn to be self-reliant, and as soon as Squire
Winthorpe realised what was wrong he gave orders for the injured man to
be carried to the couch in the dining parlour, where his wet jacket was
taken off by the simple process of ripping up the back seam.
"Now, mother, the scissors," said the squire, "and have some bandages
ready. You, Dick, if it's too much for you, go away. If it isn't:
stop. You may want to bind up a wound some day."
Dick felt a peculiar sensation of giddy sickness, but he tried to master
it, and stood looking on as the shirt sleeve was cut open, and the young
man's white arm laid bare to the shoulder, displaying an ugly wound in
the fleshy part.
"Why, it's gone right through, mother," whispered the squire, shaking
his head as he applied sponge and cold water to the bleeding wounds.
"And doctor says there's veins and artrys, mester," said Hickathrift,
huskily. "One's bad and t'other's worse. Which is it, mester?"
"I hope and believe there is no artery touched," said the squire; "but
we must run no risk. Hickathrift, my man, the doctor must be fetched.
Go and send one of the men."
"Nay, squire, I'll go mysen," replied the big wheelwright. "Did'st see
his goon, Mester Dick?"
"No, I saw no gun."
"Strange pity a man can't carry a gun like a Chrishtun," said the
wheelwright, "and not go shutin hissen that way."
The wheelwright went off, and the squire busied himself binding up the
wounds, padding and tightening, and proving beyond doubt that no artery
had been touched, for the blood was soon nearly staunched, while, just
as he was finishing, and Mrs Winthorpe was drawing the sleeve on one
side so as to secure a bandage with some stitches, something rolled on
to the floor, and Dick picked it up.
"What's that, Dick--money?"
"No, father; leaden bullet."
"Ha! that's it; nice thing to go through a man's arm," said the squire
as he examined the roughly-cast ragged piece of lead. "We must look for
his gun to-morrow. What did he expect to get with a bullet at a time
like this? Eh? What were you trying to shoot, Marston?" said the
squire, as he found that the young man's eyes were open and staring at
him.
"I--trying to shoot!"
"Yes; of course you didn't mean to bring yourself down," said the
squire, smiling; "but what in the world, man, were you trying to shoot
with bullets out here?"
The young engineer did not reply, but looked round from one to the
other, and gave Mrs Winthorpe a grateful smile.
"Do you recollect where you left your gun?" said Dick eagerly, for the
thought of the rust and mischief that would result from a night in the
bog troubled him.
"Left my gun!" he said.
"Never mind now, Mr Marston," said the squire kindly. "Your things are
wet, and we'll get you to bed. It's a nasty wound, but it will soon get
right again. I'm not a doctor, but I know the bone is not broken."
"I did not understand you at first," said the young engineer then. "You
think I have been carrying a gun, and shot myself?"
"Yes, but never mind now," said Mrs Winthorpe, kindly. "I don't think
you ought to talk."
"No," was the reply; "I will not say much; but I think Mr Winthorpe
ought to know. Some one shot me as I was coming across the fen."
"What!" cried Dick.
"Shot you!" said the squire.
"Yes. It was quite dark, and I was carefully picking my way, when there
was a puff of smoke from a bed of reeds, a loud report, and I seemed to
feel a tremendous blow; and I remember no more till I came to, feeling
sick and faint, and managed to crawl along till I saw the lights of the
farm here, and cried for help."
"Great heavens!" cried the squire.
"Didn't you see any one?" cried Mrs Winthorpe.
"No, nothing but the smoke from the reeds. I feel rather faint now--if
you will let me rest."
With the help of Dick and his father the young engineer was assisted to
his bed, where he seemed to drop at once into a heavy sleep; and,
satisfied that there was nothing to fear for some time, the squire
returned to the parlour looking very serious, while Dick watched him
intently to see what he would say.
"This is very dreadful, my dear," whispered Mrs Winthorpe at last.
"Have we some strange robber in the fen?"
"Don't know," said the squire shortly. "Perhaps some one has a spite
against him."
"How dreadful!" said Mrs Winthorpe.
"One of his men perhaps."
"Or a robber," cried Dick excitedly. "Why, father, we might get Dave
and John Warren and Hicky and some more, and hunt him down."
"Robbers rob," said the squire laconically.
"Of course, my dear," said Mrs Winthorpe; "and it would be dreadful to
think of. Why, we could never go to our beds in peace."
"But Mr Marston's watch and money are all right, my dear. Depend upon
it he has offended one of the rough drain diggers, and it is an act of
revenge."
"But the man ought to be punished."
"Of course, my dear, and we'll have the constables over from town, and
he shall be found. It won't be very hard to do."
"Why not, father?"
"Because many of the men have no guns."
"But they might borrow, father?"
"The easier to find out then," said the squire. "Well, one must eat
whether a man's shot or no. History does not say that everybody went
without his supper because King Charles's head was cut off. Mother,
draw the ale. Dick, tell Sarah to bring in those hot potatoes. I'm
hungry, and I've got to sit up all night."
There proved to be no real need, for the squire's patient slept soundly,
and there was nothing to disturb the silence at the Toft. But morning
found the squire still watching, with Mrs Winthorpe busy with her
needle in the dining parlour, and Dick lying down on the hearth-rug, and
sleeping soundly by the glowing fire. For about four o'clock, after
strenuously refusing to go to bed, he had thought he would lie down and
rest for a bit, with the result that he was in an instant fast asleep,
and breathing heavily.
By breakfast-time Farmer Tallington had heard the news, and was over
with Tom, each ready to listen to the squire's and Dick's account; and
before nine o'clock Dave and John Warren, who had come over to
Hickathrift's, to find him from home, came on to the Toft to talk with
Dick and Tom, and stare and gape.
"Why, theer heven't been such a thing happen since the big fight wi' the
smugglers and the king's men," said Dave.
To which John Warren assented, and said it was "amaazin'."
"And who do you think it weer?" said Dave, as he stood scratching his
ear; and upon being told the squire's opinion, he shook his head, and
said there was no knowing.
"It's a bad thing, Mester Dick, bringing straangers into a plaace. Yow
nivver know what characters they've got. Why, I do believe--it's a
turruble thing to say--that some of they lads at work at big dree-ern
hevven't got no characters at all."
"Here be Hickathrift a-coming wi' doctor," said John Warren.
And sure enough there was the doctor on his old cob coming along the fen
road, with Hickathrift striding by his side, the man of powder and
draught having been from home with a patient miles away when Hickathrift
reached the town, and not returning till five o'clock.
"He'll do right enough, squire," said the doctor. "Young man like he is
soon mends a hole in his flesh. You did quite right; but I suppose the
bandaging was young Dick's doing, for of all the clumsy bungling I ever
saw it was about the worst."
Dick gave his eye a peculiar twist in the direction of his father, who
was giving him a droll look, and then they both laughed.
"Very delicately done, doctor," said the squire. "There, Dick, as he
has put it on your shoulders you may as well bear it."
"Ah, let him!" said the doctor. "Now, what are you going to do?" he
said aloud; "catch the scoundrel who shot Mr Marston, and get him
transported for life?"
"That's what ought to be done to him," said John Warren solemnly, as he
looked straight away over the fen.
"Ay," said Dave. "How do we know but what it may be our turn or
Hickathrift's next? It's a straange, bad thing."
"I must talk it over with Mr Marston," said the squire, "when he gets
better, and then we shall see."
CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE PATIENT'S FRIENDS.
Mr Marston declared that he had not the most remote idea of having
given any of his men offence, and then looked very serious about the
question of bringing over the constables from the town to investigate
the matter.
"It may have been an accident, Mr Winthorpe," he said; "and if so, I
should be sorry to get any poor fellow into trouble."
"Yes, but it may not have been an accident," said the doctor.
This was in the evening, the doctor having ridden over again to see how
his patient was getting on.
"Heaven forbid, sir," said Marston warmly, "that I should suspect any
man of such a cowardly cruel deed! Impossible, sir! I cannot recall
having done any man wrong since I have been here. My lads like me."
"How do you know that?" said the squire dryly. "Men somehow are not
_very_ fond of the master who is over them, and makes them fairly earn
their wages."
"Well, sir, I don't know how to prove it," said Marston, who was lying
on a dimity-covered couch, "but--"
"Hallo!" cried the squire, leaping up and going to the window, as a loud
and excited buzzing arose, mingled with the trampling of feet, which
sounded plainly in the clear cold spring evening.
"Anything wrong?" said the doctor.
"Why, here's a crowd of a hundred fellows armed with sticks!" cried the
squire. "I believe they've got the rascal who fired the shot."
"No!" said the doctor.
"Father! Mr Marston!" cried Dick, rushing up stairs and into the
visitor's bed-room; "here are all the drain-men--hundreds of them--Mr
Marston's men."
"Not hundreds, young fellow," said Marston smiling, "only one, if they
are all here. What do they want? Have they caught anyone?"
"No, sir. They want to see you. I told them you were too bad; but they
say they will see you."
"I'll go and speak to them and see what they want," said the squire.
"Is it anything about paying their wages?"
"Oh dear, no!" said Marston. "They have been paid as usual. Shall I go
down to them, doctor?"
"If you do I'll throw up your case," cried the doctor fiercely. "Bless
my soul, no! Do you think I want you in a state of high fever. Stop
where you are, sir. Stop where you are."
"I'll go," said the squire, "before they pull the house down."
For the men were getting clamorous, and shouting loudly for Mr Marston.
The squire descended, and Dick with him, to find the front garden of the
old farm-house full of great swarthy black-bearded fellows, everyone
armed with a cudgel or a pick-axe handle, some having only the parts of
broken shovels.
"Well, my lads, what is it?" said the squire, facing them.
A tremendous yell broke out, every man seeming to speak at once, and
nothing could be understood.
"Hullo, Hickathrift! You're there, are you?" said the squire. "What do
they want?"
"Well, you see, squire," began the wheelwright; but his voice was
drowned by another furious yell.
"Don't all speak at once!" cried Dick, who had planted himself upon a
rough block of stone that had been dug out of the ruins and placed in
the front of the house.
There was something so droll to the great band of workmen in a mere
stripling shouting to them in so commanding a way, that they all burst
into a hearty laugh.
"Here, let Hicky speak!" cried Dick.
"Yes!--Ay!--Ah!--Let big Hickathrift speak!" was shouted out.
"Keep quiet, then," said the wheelwright, "or how can I! You see,
squire," he continued, "the lads came along by my place, and they said
some one had put it about that one of them had fired a shot at the young
engyneer, and they're all popped about it, and want to see Mr Marston
and tell him it isn't true."
"You can't see Mr Marston, my lads," said the squire.
Here there was a fierce yell.
"The doctor says it would do him harm," continued the squire, "and you
don't want to do that."
"Nay, nay, we wean't do that," shouted one of the men.
"But I may tell you that Mr Marston says that he does not believe
there's a man among you who would do him any harm."
"Hooray!" shouted one of the men, and this was followed by a roar. "We
wouldn't hurt the ganger, and we're going to pay out him as did."
There was a tremendous yell at this, and the men nourished their weapons
in a way that looked serious for the culprit if he should be discovered.
"Ay, but yow've got to find out first who it was," said Hickathrift.
"Yes, and we're going to find out too," cried one rough-looking fellow
standing forward. "How do we know as it warn't you?"
"Me!" cried Hickathrift, staring blankly.
"Ay, yow," roared the great rough-looking fellow, a man not far short of
the wheelwright's size. "We've heered all on you a going on and pecking
about the dree-ern being made. We know yow all hates our being here, so
how do we know it warn't yow?"
The man's fierce address was received with an angry outburst by the men,
who had come out on purpose to inflict punishment upon some one, and in
their excitement, one object failing, they were ready to snatch at
another.
It was perhaps an insensate trick; but there was so much of the frank
manly British boy in Dick Winthorpe that he forgot everything in the
fact that big Hickathrift, the man he had known from a child--the great
bluff fellow who had carried him in his arms and hundreds of times made
him welcome in that wonderland, his workshop, where he was always ready
to leave off lucrative work to fashion him eel-spear or leaping-pole, or
to satisfy any other whim that was on the surface--that this old friend
was being menaced by a great savage of a stranger nearly as big as
himself, and backed by a roaring excited crowd who seemed ready for any
outrage.
Dick did not hesitate a moment, but with eyes flashing, teeth clenched,
and fists doubled, he leaped down from the stone, rushed into the midst
of the crowd, closing round the wheelwright, and darting between the
great fellow and the man who had raised a pick-handle to strike, seized
hold of the stout piece of ash and tried to drag it away.
"You great coward!" he roared--"a hundred to one!"
It was as if the whole gang had been turned to stone, their
self-constituted leader being the most rigid of the crowd, and he stared
at Dick Winthorpe as a giant might stare at the pigmy who tried to
snatch his weapon away.
But the silence and inert state lasted only a few seconds, before the
black-bearded fellow's angry face began to pucker up, his eyes half
closed, and, bending down, he burst into a hearty roar of laughter.
"See this, lads!" he cried. "See this! Don't hurt me, mester! Say,
lads, I never felt so scared in my life."
The leader's laugh was contagious, and the crowd took it up in chorus;
but the more they laughed, the more angry grew Dick. He could not see
the ridiculous side of the matter; for, small as was his body in
comparison with that of the man he had assailed, his spirit had swollen
out as big as that of anyone present.
"I don't care," he cried; "I'll say it again--You're a set of great
cowards; and as for you," he cried to the fellow whose weapon he had
tried to wrest away, "you're the biggest of the lot."
"Well done, young un--so he is!" cried the nearest man. "Hooray for
young ganger!"
The men were ready to fight or cheer, and as ready to change their mood
as crowds always are. They answered the call with a stentorian roar;
and if Dick Winthorpe had imitated Richard the Second just then, and
called upon the crowd to accept him as their leader, they would have
followed him to the attempt of any mad prank he could have designed.
"Thank ye, Mester Dick!" said Hickathrift, placing his great hand upon
the lad's shoulder, as the squire forced his way to their side. "I
always knowed we was mates; but we're bigger mates now than ever we was
before."
"Ay, and so 'm _I_," said the big drain delver. "Shake hands, young un.
You're English, you are. So 'm I. He's English, lads; that's what he
is!" he roared as he seized Dick's hand and pumped it up and down. "So
'm I."
"Hooray!" shouted the crowd; and, seeing how the mood of all was
changed, the squire refrained from speaking till the cheering was dying
out, when, making signs to the men to hear him, he was about to utter a
few words of a peacemaking character, but there was another burst of
cheering, which was taken up again and again, the men waving their caps
and flourishing their cudgels, and pressing nearer to the house.
For the moment Dick was puzzled, but he realised what it all meant
directly, for, looking in the same direction as the men, it was to see
that the young engineer had disregarded the doctor's orders, and was
standing at the open window, with his face very pale and his arm in a
sling.
He waved his uninjured arm to command silence, and this being obtained,
his voice rang out firm and clear.
"My lads," he cried, "I know why you've come, and I thank you; but these
people here are my very good friends, and as for the squire's son and
the wheelwright there, they saved my life last night."
"Hooray!" roared the leader of the gang frantically; and as his
companions cheered, he caught hold of Hickathrift's hand, and shook it
as earnestly as if they were sworn brothers.
"As to my wound," continued the engineer, "I believe it was an accident;
so now I ask you to go back home quietly, and good-night!"
"Well said, sir; good-night to you!" roared the leader as the window was
closed. "Good-night to everybody! Come on, lads! Good-night, young
un! We're good mates, eh?"
"Yes," said Dick, shortly.
"Then shake hands again. We don't bear no malice, do us? See, lads.
We're mates. I wean't laugh at you. You're a good un, that's what you
are, and you'll grow into a man."
The great fellow gave Dick's hand another shake that was very vigorous,
but by no means pleasant; and then, after three roaring cheers, the
whole party went off, striking up a chorus that went rolling over the
fen and kept on dying out and rising again as the great sturdy fellows
tramped away.
"I'm not an inhospitable man, doctor," said the squire, as the former
shook hands to go, after giving orders for his patient to be kept quiet,
and assuring the squire that the young fellow would be none the worse
for the adventures of the night--"I'm not an inhospitable man, but one
has to think twice before asking a hundred such to have a mug of ale. I
should have liked to do it, and it was on my lips, but the barrel would
have said no, I'm sure. Good-night!"
"Now, sir," said the squire as soon as he was alone with his son, "what
have you got to say for yourself?"
"Say, father!" replied Dick, staring.
"Yes, sir. Don't you think you did about as mad and absurd a thing as
the man who put his head into the lion's jaws?"
"I--I didn't know, father," replied Dick, who, after the exultation
caused by the cheering, felt quite crestfallen.
"No, of course you did not, but it was a very reckless thing to do,
and--er--don't--well, I hope you will never have cause to do it again."
Dick went away, feeling as if his comb had been cut, and of course he
did not hear his father's words that night when he went to bed.
"Really, mother, I don't know whether I felt proud of the boy or vexed
when he faced that great human ox."
"I do," said Mrs Winthorpe smiling, but with the tears in her
eyes--"proud."
"Yes, I think I did," said the squire. "Good-night!"
"Don't you think some one ought to sit up with Mr Marston?"
"No: he is sleeping like a top; and after our bad time with him
yesternight, I mean to have some sleep."
Five minutes after, the squire's nose proclaimed that it was the hour of
rest, and Dick heard it as he stole from his bed-room, to see how the
wounded man was; and this act he repeated at about hourly intervals all
through the night, for he could not sleep soundly, his mind was so busy
with trouble about the injury to their visitor's arm, and the wonder
which kept working in his brain. Who was it fired that shot?
The doctor was right; the wounded man's arm soon began to mend; but
naturally there was a period when he was unable to attend to his duties,
and that period was a pleasant one for Dick Winthorpe, inasmuch as it
was the commencement of a long friendship.
John Marston was for going back to his lodgings near the outfall or
_gowt_ as it was termed; but the squire and Mrs Winthorpe would not
hear of it, and to the boys' great delight, he stayed.
He was an invalid, but the right kind of invalid to make a pleasant
companion, for he loved the open air, and was never happier than when he
was out with the boys and Dave or John Warren, somewhere in the fen.
"It's all gammon to call him ill, and for the doctor to keep coming,"
said Tom Tallington.
"Oh, he is ill!" said Dick; "but you see he's only ill in one arm."
Dick had only to propose a run out, and John Marston immediately seemed
to forget that he was a man, became a boy for the time being, and
entered into the spirit of their pursuits.
One day it was pike-fishing, with Dave to punt them about here and there
among the pools. At another time ordinary tackle would be rigged up,
and Dave would take them to some dark hole where fish were known to
swarm, and for hours the decoy-man would sit and watch patiently while
the three companions pulled up the various denizens of the mere.
One bright April morning Dave was seen coming out of the mist, looking
gigantic as he stood up in his boat; and his visit was hailed with
delight, for the trio had been wondering how they should pass that day.
"Morning, Dave!" said Marston as the fen-man landed slowly from his
boat, and handed Dick a basket of fresh ducks' eggs.
"Morn', mester! Tak them up to the missus, Mester Dick. They be all
noo-laid uns. Straange thick haar this morn," he continued, wiping the
condensed mist from his eyelashes. "Re'glar sea-haar." [sea-fog--mist
from the German Ocean.]
"Take those eggs up to mother, Tom," said Dick imperatively.
"Sha'n't. I know! You want to be off without me."
"Hallo, young fellow!" said the squire cheerily. "What have you got
there--eggs?"
"Yes, mester, fresh uns for the missus."
"I'm going in, and I'll take them," said the squire, thus disposing of
the difficulty about a messenger. "There's a canister of powder for
you, Dave, when you want some more."
"Thanky kindly, mester. I'll come and get it when I'm up at house."
The squire nodded and went on, but turned back to ask when Mr Marston
was going over to the works, and upon hearing that it was in the
afternoon, he said he would accompany him.
"And how's your lame arm, mester?" said Dave as soon as the squire had
gone.
"Getting better fast, Dave, my man."
"And with two holes in it, mester?"
"Yes, with two holes in it."
"But are they both getting better?"
"Why, you've been told a dozen times over that they are!" cried Dick.
"Nay, Mester Dick, I know'd as one hole was getting reight, but Mester
Marston here nivver said as both weer. I'm straange and glad. Heered
aught yet 'bout him as did it?"
"No, my man, and don't want to."
"Hark at that, Mester Dick! Why, if any one had shot at me, and hot me
as they did him, I'd have found him out somehow afore now. Mebbe I
shall find this out mysen."
"Why, you're not trying, Dave."
"Not trying, lad! Nay, but I am, and I shall find him yet some day.
Look here, boys. If you want to find out anything like that, you
mustn't go splashing about among the reeds, or tug-slugging through the
bog-holes, or he hears you coming, and goos and hides. You must sit
down among the bushes, and wait and wait quiet, like a man does when he
wants to get the ducks, and by-and-by him as did it comes along. Dessay
I shall catch him one of these days, and if I do, and I've got my pole
with me, I'll throost him under water and half-drownd him."
"Never mind about all that, Dave. What are you going to do to-day?"
cried Dick.
"Me, lad! Oh, nowt! I've brote a few eggs for the missus, and I shall
tak' that can o' powder back wi' me, and then set down and go on makkin
soom new coy-nets."
"That's his gammon, Mr Marston," cried Dick.
"Nay, nay, mester, it's solemn truth."
"'Tisn't; it's gammon. Isn't it, Tom?"
"Every bit of it. He's come on purpose to ask us to go out with him."
"Nay, nay, nay, lads," said Dave in an ill-used tone. "I did think o'
asking if Mester Marston here would like to try for some eels up in the
long shallows by Popley Watter, for they be theer as thick as herrin',
bubblin' up and slithering in the mud."
"Let's go, then, Mr Marston. Eel-spearing," cried Dick.
"But I could not use an eel-spear," said the young engineer, smiling.
"But Tom and I could do the spearing, and you could put the eels in the
basket."
"When you caught them," said Marston, laughing.
"Oh, we should be sure to catch some! Shouldn't we, Dave?"
"Ay, theer's plenty of 'em, mester."
"Let's go, then," cried Dick excitedly; "and if we get a whole lot,
we'll take them over to your men, Mr Marston. Come on!"
"Nay, but yow weant," said Dave, with a dry chuckle.
"Why not?"
"Mester Hickathrift has got the stong-gad to mend. One of the tines is
off, and it wants a noo ash pole."
"Here, stop a moment," said Marston, laughingly interrupting a groan of
disgust uttered by the boys; "what, pray, is a stong-gad?"
"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Tom. "Don't know what a stong-gad is!"
"Hold your tongue, stupid!" cried Dick indignantly, taking the part of
his father's guest. "You don't know everything. What's a dumpy
leveller? There, you don't know, and Mr Marston does."
"But what is a stong-gad?" said Marston.
"Eel-spear," said Dick. "How long would it take Hicky to mend it?"
"'Bout two hours--mebbe only one. I could mak' a new pole while he
forged the tine."
"Come along, then. Hicky will leave anything to do it for me."
"Nay, he's gone to market," said Dave.
"Yes; I saw him pass our house," said Tom.
"What a shame!" cried Dick. "Here, I say, what's that basket for in the
punt?" he added eagerly.
"Why, he's got a net, too, and some poles," cried Tom. "Yah! he meant
to do something."
"Why, of course he did," cried Dick, running down to the boat. "Now,
then, Dave, what's it to be?"
"Oh, nowt, Mester Dick! I thought to put a net in, and a pole or two,
and ask if you'd care to go and get a few fish, but Mester Marston's too
fine a gentleman to care for ought o' the sort."
"Oh, no, I'm not!" said Marston. "I should enjoy it, boys, above all
things."
"There, Dave, now then! What is it--a drag-net?"
"Nay, Mester Dick, on'y a bit of a new."
"But where are you going?"
"I thowt o' the strip 'tween Long Patch and Bootherboomp's Roostens."
"Here, stop a moment," cried the engineer. "I've heard that name
before. Who was Mr Bootherboomp?"
"Hi--hi--hi! hecker--hecker--hecker. Heigh!"
That does not express the sounds uttered by Dave, for they were more
like an accident in a wooden clock, when the wheels run down and finish
with a jerk which breaks the cogs. But that was Dave's way of laughing,
and it ended with a horrible distortion of his features.
"I say: don't, Dave. What an old nut-cracker you are! You laugh like
the old watchman's rattle in the garret. Be quiet, Tom!"
"But Mr Bootherboomp!" roared Tom, bursting into a second fit of
laughter.
"It's butterbump, Mr Marston. It's what they call those tall brown
birds something like herons. What do you call them in London?" said
Dick.
"Oh, bitterns!"
"Yes, that's it. Come on!"
"Nay," said Dave; "I don't think you gentlemen would care for such poor
sport. On'y a few fish'."
"You never mind about that! Jump in, Mr Marston. Who's going to
pole?"
"Nay, I'll pole," said Dave. "If yow mean to go we may as well get
theer i' good time; but I don't think it's worth the trouble."
"Get out! It's rare good fun, Mr Marston; sometimes we get lots of
fish."
"I'm all expectation," said Marston as Dave smiled the tight smile,
which made his mouth look like a healed-up cut; and, taking the pole,
began to send the punt over the clear dark water. "Shall we find any of
those curious fish my men caught in the river the other day?"
"What curious fish were they?" asked Dick.
"Well, to me they seemed as if so many young eels had grown ashamed of
being so long and thin, and they had been feeding themselves up and
squeezing themselves short, so as to look as like tench as possible."
"Oh, I know what you mean!" cried Tom. "Eel-pouts! they're just about
half-way between eels and tench."
"Nay, yow wean't catch them here," said Dave oracularly. "They lives in
muddy watter in rivers. Our watter here's clean and clear."
It was a bright pleasant journey over the mere, in and out of the lanes
of water to pool after pool, till Dave suddenly halted at a canal-like
spot, where the water ran in between two great beds of tender-growing
reeds, which waved and undulated in the soft breeze. Here he thrust
down his pole and steadied the punt, while he shook out his light net
with its even meshes, securing one end to a pole and then letting the
leaden sinkers carry it to the bottom before thrusting the punt over to
the other side of the natural canal, to which he made fast the second
end of the net in a similar way, so that the water was sealed with a
light fence of network, whose lower edge was close to the black ooze of
the bottom, held there by the leaden sinkers of the foot line, the top
line being kept to the surface by a series of tightly-bound little
bundles of dry rushes.
"Theer," said Dave as soon as he had done, his proceedings having been
carefully watched; "that un do!"
"Will the fish go into that net?" said Marston.
"Nay, not unless we mak 'em, mester," said Dave, smiling. "Will they,
Mester Dick?"
"Not they," cried Dick. "Wait a minute, Mr Marston; you'll see."
Dave took his pole and, leaving the net behind, coasted along by the
shore of the little island formed by the canal or strait, which ran in,
zigzagging about like a vein in a piece of marble; and after about a
quarter of an hour's hard work he forced the punt round to the other
side of the island, and abreast of a similar opening to that which they
had left, in fact the other end of the natural canal or lane, here about
twelve or fourteen feet broad.
"Oh, I see!" said the engineer. "You mean to go in here, and drive the
fish to the net at the other end."
"That's the way, Mr Marston," said Tom Tallington. "Wait a bit, and
you'll see such a haul."
"Perhaps of an empty net, Mr Marston," said Dick with a grin. "Perhaps
there are none here."
"You set astarn, mester," said Dave. "I'll put her along, and you tak'
one side, Mester Dick; and you t'other, young Tom Tallington."
The boys had already taken up two long light poles that lay in the boat,
and standing up as Dave sent the boat along slowly and making a great
deal of disturbance with his pole, they beat and splashed and stabbed
the water on both sides of the boat, so as to scare any fish which might
happen to be there, and send them flying along the lane toward the net.
This was a comparatively easy task, for the coming of the boat was
sufficient as a rule to startle the timid fish, which in turn scared
those in front, the beating with the poles at either side sending
forward any which might be disposed to slip back.
There was more labour than excitement in the task; but the course along
the lane of water was not entirely uneventful, for a moor-hen was
startled from her nest in a half-liquid patch of bog, above which rose
quite a tuft of coarse herbage; and farther on, just as Dick thrust in
his pole to give it a good wriggle and splash, there was a tremendous
swirl, and a huge pike literally shot out of the water, describing an
arc, and after rising fully four feet from the surface dropped
head-first among the tangled water-weeds and reedy growth, through which
it could be seen to wriggle and force its way farther and farther, the
waving reeds and bubbling water between showing the direction in which
it had gone.
"Hooray, Dave! a forty-pounder!" cried Dick. "Push the punt in and we
can easily catch him."
"Not you," said Dave stolidly; "he'll get through that faster than we
could."
"But, look, look! I can see where he is."
"Nay, he'll go all through theer and get deeper and deeper, and it's
more wattery farther on. He'll go right through theer, and come out the
other side."
"But he was such a big one, Dave--wasn't he, Mr Marston?--quite forty
pounds!"
"Nay, not half, lad," said Dave stolidly, as he thrust the boat on.
"Beat away. We'll come and set a bait for him some day. That's the way
to catch him."
Dick uttered an angry ejaculation as he looked back towards where he
could still see the water plants waving; and in his vexation he raised
his pole, and went on with the splashing so vigorously, and, as legal
folks say, with so much _malice prepense_, that he sent the water flying
over Dave as he stood up in the bows of the punt.
Tom chuckled and followed suit, sending another shower over the
puntsman. Then Dick began again, the amber water flying and sparkling
in the sunshine; but Dave took no notice till the splashing became too
pronounced, when he stopped short, gave his head a shake, and turned
slowly round.
"Want to turn back and give up?" he said slowly.
Dick knew the man too well to continue, and in penitent tones exclaimed:
"No, no, go on, Dave, we won't splash any more."
"Because if there's any more of it--"
"I won't splash any more, Dave," cried Dick, laughing, "It was Tom."
"Oh, what a shame!"
"So you did splash. Didn't he, Mr Marston?"
"I don't want to hear no more about it, Mester Dick. I know," growled
Dave. "I only says, Is it to be fishing or games?"
"Fishing, Dave. It's all right; go on, Tom; splash away gently."
"Because if--"
"No, no, go on, Dave. There, we won't send any more over you."
Dave uttered a grunt, and forced the boat along once more, while Marston
sat in the stern an amused spectator of the boys' antics.
Everything now went on orderly enough, till they had proceeded a long
way on, in and out, for a quarter of a mile, when at a word from Dave
the splashing and stabbing of the water grew more vigorous, the punt
being now pretty close to the net, the irregular row of bundles of
rushes showing plainly.
And now Dave executed a fresh evolution, changing the position of the
punt, for instead of its approaching end on, he turned it abreast, so
that it pretty well touched the reedy sides of the canal, and with the
poles now being plied on one side, the boat was made to approach more
slowly.
"Now, mester, you'd better stand up," said Dave.
"Yes, Mr Marston, stand up," cried Dick. "Look!"
Marston rose to his feet, and as he looked toward the entrance where the
net was spread there was a wave-like swell upon the surface, which might
have been caused by the movement of the boat or by fish.
There was no doubt about its being caused by fish, for all at once,
close by the row of rush bundles, there was a splash. Then, as they
approached, another and another.
"They're feeling the net," cried Dick excitedly.
"Ay, keep it oop, lads, or they'll come back," cried Dave, making the
water swirl with his pole, which he worked about vigorously.
Even as he spoke there came another splash, and this time the sun
flashed upon the glittering sides of the fish which darted out and fell
over the other side of the top line of the net.
"There goes one," shouted Tom.
"Ay, and theer goes another," said Dave with a chuckle as he forced the
boat along slowly.
And now, as Marston watched, he saw that the irregular line of rush
bundles which stretched across the mouth of the canal was changing its
shape, and he needed no telling that the regular semicircular form it
assumed was caused by the pressure of a shoal of fish seeking to escape
into the open mere, but of course checked by the fragile wall of net.
"There must be a lot, Tom," cried Dick excitedly. "Look, Mr Marston!
There goes another. Oh, Dave, we shall lose them all!"
This was consequent upon another good-sized fish flying out of the
water, falling heavily upon one of the rush floats, and then darting
away.
"Nay, we sha'n't lose 'em all," said Dave coolly. "Some on 'em's safe
to go. Now, then, splash away. Reach over your end, young Tom
Tallington, or some on 'em 'll go round that way."
Tom changed his place a little, to stand now on what had been the front
of their advance, and thrusting in his pole he splashed and beat the
narrow space between him and the dense boggy side, where the sphagnum
came down into the water.
Dick followed suit at the other end, and Dave swept his pole sidewise as
if he were mowing weeds below the surface.
"Oh!" cried Dick, as he overbalanced himself, and nearly went in from
the stern. He would have gone headlong had not Mr Marston made a
bound, and caught him as he vainly strove to recover his balance.
The effort was well timed, and saved him, but of course the consequences
of jumping about in a boat are well-known. The punt gave such a lurch
that Dave almost went out, while, as for Tom, he was literally jerked up
as from a spring-board, and, dropping his pole, he seemed to be taking a
voluntary dive, describing a semicircle, and going down head-first, not
into the narrow slit between him and the boggy shore, but right into the
semi-fluid mass of sphagnum, water, and ooze, where he disappeared to
his knees.
Tom's dive sent the boat, as he impelled it with his feet, a couple of
yards away; and for a moment or two those who were in it seemed half
paralysed, till a roar of laughter from Dick, who did not realise the
danger, roused Dave to action.
For the dense mass, while fluid enough to allow Tom to dive in, was not
sufficiently loose to let him rise; and there he stuck, head downwards,
and with his legs kicking furiously.
"Now if we was to leave him," said Dave sententiously, "he wouldn't
never be no more trouble to his father; but I suppose we must pull him
out."
"Pull him out, man? Quick, use your pole!"
"Ay, I'm going to, mester," said Dave coolly. "Theer we are," he
continued, as he sent the end of the punt back to where poor Tom's legs
went on performing a series of kicks which were sometimes like those
made by a swimming frog, and at others as if he were trying to walk
upside down along an imaginary flight of aerial stairs.
The time seemed long, but probably it was not half a minute from the
time Tom dived into the bog till the young engineer seized him by the
legs and dragged him into the boat, to sit upon the bottom, gasping,
spitting, and rubbing the ooze from his eyes. But it was a good two
minutes before he was sufficiently recovered to look round angrily, and
in a highly-pitched quavering voice exclaimed:
"Look here: who was it did that?"
"Nobody," roared Dick. "Oh, I say, Tom, what a game! Are your feet
wet?"
Tom turned upon him savagely, but everyone in the boat was laughing, and
his countenance relaxed, and he rose up and leaned over the side of the
boat to wash his face, which a splash or two relieved from the pieces of
bog and dead vegetation which adhered.
"I don't mind," he said. "Only you wouldn't have found it a game if
you'd been there."
"Let's get back quickly," said Mr Marston, "or the boy will catch
cold."
"Oh, it won't hurt me!" cried Tom. "Let's catch the fish first. They
never get cold."
"Yes: let's haul the net out first," said Dick. "Tom won't mind a
ducking."
"Ay, we're going to hev out the net," said Dave. "Splash away, my lad.
That'll keep away the cold."
Poor Tom's feet had not been wet, but as he stood up with the water
trickling from him, a couple of streams soon made their way down the
legs of his trousers into his boots. This was, however, soon forgotten
in the excitement of the hauling.
For, after a fresh amount of splashing, though Dave declared the fish
had all come back, the punt was run pretty close up to one side, the
lines and pole taken on board, and the punt thrust toward the other
side.
Before they reached it the bobbing of the rush floats and the
semicircular shape of the top line showed plainly enough that there were
a good many fish there; and when Dave had secured the lines at the other
end, removed the poles, and by ingenious manipulation drawn on the
bottom line so as to raise the cord, it was not long before the net
began to assume the shape of a huge bag, and one that was pretty heavy.
Every now and then a swirl in the water and a splash showed where some
large fish was trying to escape, while sometimes one did leap out and
get away. Then the surface would be necked with silvery arrows as
swarms of small-fry appeared flashing into sight and disappearing, these
little bits of excitement growing less frequent as the small fish found
their way over the top of the net, or discovered that the meshes were
wide enough to allow them to pass through.
"How is it, Dave, that all the little fish like to keep to the top of
the water, and the big ones out of sight down at the bottom?" said Dick.
Dave chuckled, or rather made a noise something like a bray.
"S'pose you was a fish, young mester, wouldn't you, if you was a little
one, keep nigh the top if you found going down to the bottom among the
big uns meant being swallowed up?"
"Oh, of course!" cried Dick. "I forgot that they eat one another.
Look, Mr Marston, that was a pike."
He pointed excitedly to a large fish which rose to the surface, just
showing its dark olive-green back as it curved over and disappeared
again, making the water eddy.
"They do not seem to have all gone, Dave," said Mr Marston.
"Nay, theer's a few on 'em left, mester," replied Dave. "Now, my lads,
all together. That's the way."
The lines were drawn, and the weight of the great bag of meshes proved
that after all a good fair haul had been made, the net being drawn close
to the boat and the bag seeming to shrink in size till there was a mass
of struggling, splashing fish alongside, apparently enough to far more
than fill a bushel basket.
"What are you going to do?" asked Mr Marston, who was as excited now as
the boys, while Dave worked away stolidly, as if it was all one of the
most commonplace matters for him.
"Haul the net into the boat," cried Tom.
"Nay, my net would break," said Dave. "There's a lot of owd rushes and
roots, and rotten weeds in it."
"I don't believe there are, Dave," said Dick. "It's all solid fish."
"Nay, lad, but net'll break. Let's hev out some of the big uns first."
"Look! there's a fine one," cried Dick, making a dash at a large fish
which rose out of the writhing mass, but it glided through his hands.
"Howd hard!" said Dave. "You lads go th'other side o' the punt or we
shall capsize. Let me and the London gentleman get them in."
"Oh!" groaned Tom.
"No, I've only one hand to work with," said Marston, who saw the
reasonableness of the old fen-man's remark, for the side of the boat had
gone down very low once or twice, and the effect of dragging a portion
of the laden net on board might have been sufficient to admit the water.
"I'll give way, and act as ballast."
"No, no!" cried Dick. "You help, Mr Marston."
But the young engineer remained steadfast to his proposal, and seated
himself on the other side.
"Better let me lade out a few o' the big uns, Mester Dick," said Dave,
"while you lads hold on."
The boys hardly approved of the proposal, but they gave way; and each
taking a good grip of the wet net, they separated toward the head and
stern, while Dave stayed in the middle, and taking off his jacket,
rolled up his sleeves close to the shoulder, and then plunging his arms
in among the swarm of fish he brought out a good-sized pike of six or
seven pounds.
This was thrown into the basket, to flap furiously and nearly leap out,
renewing its efforts as another of its kind was thrown in to keep it
company.
"Is there a very big one, Dave?" cried Dick.
"Nay; nought very big," was the reply. "Draw her up, my lads. That's
reight."
As Dave spoke he kept on plunging his hands into the splashing and
struggling mass of fish, and sometimes brought out one, sometimes
missed. But he kept on vigorously till, feeling satisfied that the net
would bear the rest, he drew the loaded line well over into the boat,
and, giving the boys a hint to tighten the line, he plunged in his arms
once more, got well hold, and the next minute, by a dexterous lift,
raised the bag, so that its contents came pouring over the edge of the
punt in a silvery, glittering cataract of fish, leaping, gliding, and
flapping all over the bottom about his feet.
Then a few fish, which were hanging by their gills, their heads being
thrust through the meshes, were shaken out, the net bundled up together
and thrown into the fore part of the boat, and the little party came
together to gloat over their capture.
"Theer, lads," said Dave, coolly resuming his jacket, "you can pitch 'em
all into the baskets, all the sizable ones, and put all the little ones
back into the watter. I'll throost the punt back, so as young Tom
Tallington can get some dry clothes."
These latter were the last things in Tom's mind, for just then, as Dave
resumed the pole, and began sending the boat quickly through the water,
the boy was trying to grasp an eel, which had found the meshes one size
too small for his well-fed body, and was now in regular serpentine
fashion trying to discover a retreat into which he could plunge, and so
escape the inevitable frying-pan or pot.
Irrespective of the fact that a large eel can bite sharply, it is, as
everyone knows, one of the most awkward things to hold, for the moment a
good grip of its slimy body is made, the result seems to be that it
helps the elongated fish to go forward or slip back. And this Tom found
as he grasped the eel again and again, only for it to make a few
muscular contortions and escape.
Then Dick tried, with no better effect, the pursuit lasting till the
active fish made its way in among the meshes of the net, when its
capture became easy, and it was swept into the great basket, to set the
pike flapping and leaping once more.
Then the sorting commenced, all the small fish being thrown back to
increase in size, while the rest of the slimy captives went into the
basket.
There was no larger pike than the one first taken out of the net by
Dave, but plenty of small ones, all extremely dark in colour, as if
affected by living in the amber-tinted water, and nearly all these were
thrown back, in company with dozens of silvery roach and orange-finned,
brightly gilded rudd, all thicker and broader than their relatives the
roach.
Many scores of fish were thrown overboard, some to turn up and float for
a few minutes before they recovered their breath, as Tom called it, but
for the most part they dived down at once, uninjured by what they had
gone through, while their largeness fortunate friends were tossed into
the basket--gilded side-striped perch, with now and then a fat-looking,
small-eyed, small-scaled tench, brightly brazen at the sides, and
looking as if cast in a soft kind of bronze. Then there were a couple
of large-scaled brilliantly golden carp; but the majority of the fish
were good-sized, broad, dingy-looking bream, whose slimy emanations made
the bottom of the punt literally ask for a cleansing when the basket was
nearly filled.
By that time the party were well on their way to the Toft, and as they
neared the shore, it was to find the squire waiting to speak to the
engineer, while John Warren was close behind with his dog, ready to join
Dave, in whose company he went off after the latter had been up to the
house and had a good feast of bread and cheese and ale.
That evening the squire and Mr Marston went over to the works to see
how matters were progressing, to find all satisfactory, and the night
passed quietly enough; but at breakfast the next morning, when some of
the best of the tench appeared fried in butter, a messenger came over to
see the engineer on his way to the town for the doctor, to announce that
Hez Bargle, the big delver, who had been leader of the party who came
over so fiercely about the attack upon Mr Marston, had been found that
morning lying in the rough hovel where he slept alone, nearly dead.
The man was sharply examined by the engineer, a fresh messenger in the
shape of Hickathrift being found to carry on the demand for the doctor.
But there was very little to learn. Bargle had not come up to his work,
and the foreman of the next gang went to see why his fellow-ganger had
not joined him, and found him lying on the floor of the peat-built hut
quite insensible, with the marks of savage blows about the head, as if
he had been suddenly attacked and beaten with a club, for there was no
sign of any struggle.
Mr Marston went over at once with the squire, Dick obtaining permission
to accompany them; and upon their arrival it was to find all the work at
a stand-still, the men being grouped about with their sleeves rolled-up,
and smoking, and staring silently at the rough peat hovel where their
fellow-worker lay.
The engineer entered the shelter--it did not deserve the title of
cottage--and the squire and Dick followed, to find the man nearly
insensible, and quite unable to give any account of how the affair had
happened.
The men were questioned, but knew nothing beyond the fact that they had
parted from him as usual to go to their own quarters, Bargle being the
only one who lodged alone. There had been no quarrel as far as Mr
Marston could make out, everyone he spoke to declaring that the work had
gone on the previous day in the smoothest way possible; and at last
there seemed to be nothing to do but wait until the great, rough fellow
could give an account of the case for himself.
The doctor came at last, and formed his opinion.
"He is such a great, strong fellow that unless he was attacked by two or
three together, I should say someone came upon him as he lay asleep and
stunned him with a blow on the head."
"The result of some quarrel or offence given to one of the men under
him, I'm afraid," said the engineer with a look of intense vexation in
his eyes. "These men are very brutal sometimes to their fellows,
especially when they are placed in authority. Will he be long before he
is better?"
"No," replied the doctor. "The blows would have killed an ordinary man,
but he has a skull like an ox. He'll be at work again in a fortnight if
he'll behave sensibly, and carry out my instructions."
A couple of days later Bargle was sitting up smoking, when the engineer
entered the reed-thatched hut, in company with Dick.
"Hallo, youngster!" growled the great fellow, with a smile slowly
spreading over his rugged face, and growing into a grin, which accorded
ill with his bandaged head; "shak' hands!"
Dick obeyed heartily enough, the great fellow retaining the lad's hand
in his, and slowly pumping it up and down.
"We're mates, that's what we two are," he growled. "You ar'n't half a
bad un, you ar'n't. Ah, mester, how are you? Arm better?"
"Mending fast, my lad; and how are you?"
"Tidy, mester, tidy! Going to handle a spade again to-morrow."
"Nonsense, man! you're too weak yet."
"Weak! Who says so? I don't, and the doctor had better not."
"Never mind that. I want you to tell me how all this happened."
"He ar'n't half a bad un, mester," said the injured man, ignoring the
remark, as he held on to the boy's hand. "We're mates, that's what we
are. See him stand up again me that day? It were fine."
"Yes; but you must tell me how this occurred. I want to take some steps
about it."
"Hey! and you needn't take no steps again it, mester. I shall lay hold
on him some day, and when I do--Hah!"
He stretched out a huge fist in a menacing way that promised ill to his
assailant.
"But do you know who it was?" said the engineer.
"It warn't him," growled Bargle, smiling at Dick. "He wouldn't come and
hit a man when he's asleep. Would you, mate?"
"I wouldn't be such a coward," cried Dick.
"Theer! Hear that, mester! I knowed he wouldn't. He'd hev come up to
me and hit me a doubler right in the chest fair and square, and said,
`now, then, come on!'"
"Then someone did strike you when you were asleep, Bargle, eh?"
"Dunno, mester; I s'pose so. Looks like it, don't it?"
"Yes, my man, very much so. Then you were woke out of your sleep by a
blow, eh?"
"Weer I? I don't know."
"Tell me who have you had a quarrel with lately?"
"Quarrel?"
"Well, row, then."
"Wi' him," said the big fellow, pointing at Dick.
"Oh, but he would not have come to you in the night!"
"Who said he would, mester?" growled Bargle menacingly. "Not he. He'd
come up square and give a man a doubler in the chest and--"
"Yes, yes," said the engineer impatiently; "but I want to know who it
was made this attack upon you--this cowardly attack. You say it was
while you slept."
"Yes, I s'pose so; but don't you trouble about that, mester. I'm big
enough to fight my bit. I shall drop on to him one of these days, and
when I do--why, he'll find it okkard."
Mr Marston questioned and cross-questioned the man, but there was no
more to be got from him. He s'posed some un come in at that theer door
and give it him; but he was so much taken up with Dick's visit that he
could hardly think of self, and when they came away Mr Marston had
learned comparatively nothing, the big fellow shouting after Dick:
"I've got a tush for you, lad, when I get down to the dreern again--one
I digged out, and you shall hev it."
Dick said, "Thank you," for the promised "tush," and walked away.
"I don't like it," said Mr Marston. "Someone shooting at me; someone
striking down this man. I'm afraid it's due to ill-will towards me,
Dick. But," he added, laughing, "I will not suspect you, as Bargle lets
you off."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
THE SHAKES.
The time glided on. Bargle grew better; Mr Marston's wound healed; and
these troubles were forgotten in the busy season which the fine weather
brought. For the great drain progressed rapidly in the bright spring
and early summer-time. There were stoppages when heavy rains fell; but
on the whole nature seemed to be of opinion that the fen had lain
uncultivated for long enough, and that it was time there was a change.
The old people scattered here and there about the edge shook their
heads, especially when they came over to Hickathrift's, and said it
would all be swept away one of these fine nights--_it_ being the new
river stretching week by week farther into the morass; but the flood did
not seem to have that effect when it did come. On the contrary, short
as was the distance which the great drain had penetrated, its effect was
wonderful, for it carried off water in a few days which would otherwise
have stayed for weeks.
Dick said it was a good job that Mr Marston had been shot.
Asked why by his crony Tom, he replied that it had made them such good
friends, and it was nice to have a chap who knew such a lot over at the
Toft.
For the intimacy had grown; and whenever work was done, reports written
out and sent off, and no duties raised their little reproving heads to
say, "You are neglecting us!" the engineer made his way to the Toft,
ready to join the two boys on some expedition--egg-collecting, fishing,
fowling, or hunting for some of the botanical treasures of the bog.
"I wish he wouldn't be so fond of moss and weeds!" said Tom. "It seems
so stupid to make a collection of things like that, and to dry them.
Why, you could go to one of our haystacks any day and pull out a better
lot than he has got."
Dick said nothing, for he thought those summer evenings delightful. He
and Tom, too, had been ready enough to laugh at their new friend
whenever he displayed ignorance of some term common to the district; but
now this laughter was lost in admiration as they found how he could
point out objects in their various excursions which they had never seen
before, book-lore having prepared him to find treasures in the
neighbourhood of the Toft of whose existence its occupants knew naught.
"Don't you find it very dull out there, Mr Marston," said Mrs
Winthorpe one day, "always watching your men cut--cut--cut--through that
wet black bog?"
"Dull, madam!" he said, smiling; "why, it is one continual time of
excitement. I watch every spadeful that is taken out, expecting to come
upon some relic of the past, historical or natural. By the way, Dick,
did that man Bargle ever give you the big tusk he said he had found?"
"No, he has never said any more about it, and I don't like to ask."
"Then I will. Perhaps it is the tooth of some strange beast which used
to roam these parts hundreds of years ago."
"I say, Marston," said the squire, "you'd like to see your great band of
ruffians at work excavating here, eh?"
"Mr Winthorpe," said the young man, "I'd give anything to be allowed to
search the ruins."
"Yes, and turn my place upside down, and disturb the home of the poor
old monks who used to live here! No, no; I'm not going to have my place
ragged to pieces. But when we do dig down, we come upon some curious
old stones."
"Like your tobacco-jar?" the engineer said, pointing to the old carven
corbel.
The squire nodded.
"You've got plenty of digging to do, my lad," he said, laughing.
"Finish that, and then perhaps I may let you have a turn my way. Who's
going over to see John Warren?"
"Ah, I wish you would go," said Mrs Winthorpe, "and take the poor
fellow over some things I have ready, in a basket!"
"I'll go," said Dick. "Hicky will take us in his punt. There'll be
plenty of time, and it's moonlight at nine."
"I'll go with you, Dick," said Marston. "What's the matter with the
man?"
"Our own particular complaint, which the people don't want you to kill,
my lad," said the squire. "Marsh fever--ague. Years to come when it's
swept away by the drainage, the people will talk of it as one of the
good things destroyed by our work. They are rare ones to grumble, and
stick to their old notions."
"But the people seem to be getting used to us now."
"Oh yes! we shall live it down."
Dick sat and listened, but said nothing. Still he could not help
recalling how one old labourer's wife had shaken her head and spit upon
the ground as his father went by, and wondered in his mind whether this
was some form of curse.
"Tak' you over to the Warren, my lad?" said Hickathrift, as they reached
the wheelwright's shed, where the big fellow was just taking down a hoe
to go gardening.
"Why, of course I will. Straange niced evening, Mr Marston! Come
along. I'll put on my coat though, for the mist'll be thick to-night."
Hickathrift took his coat from behind the door, led the way to the place
where his punt was floating, fastened to an old willow-stump; and as
soon as his visitors were aboard he began to unfasten the rope.
"Like to tak' a goon, sir, or a fishing-pole?"
"No: I think we'll be content with what we can see to-night."
Hickathrift nodded, and Dick thought the engineer very stupid, for a gun
had a peculiar fascination for him; but he said nothing, only seated
himself, and trailed his hand in the dark water as the lusty wheelwright
sent the punt surging along.
"Why, Hickathrift," cried Mr Marston, "I thought our friend Dave a
wonder at managing a punt; but you beat him. What muscles you have!"
"Muscles, mester? Ay, they be tidy; but I'm nowt to Dave. I can shove
stronger, but he'd ding [beat] me at it. He's cunning like. Always at
it, you see. Straange and badly though."
"What, Dave is?" cried Dick.
"Ay, lad; he's got the shakes, same as John Warren. They two lay out
together one night after a couple o' wild swans they seen, and it give
'em both ager."
It was a glorious evening, without a breath of air stirring, and the
broad mere glistened and glowed with the wonderful reflection from the
sky. The great patches of reeds waved, and every now and then the weird
cry of the moor-hen came over the water. Here and there perfect clouds
of gnats were dancing with their peculiar flight; swallows were still
busy darting about, and now and then a leather-winged bat fluttered over
them seeking its insect food.
"What a lovely place this looks in a summer evening!" said Mr Marston
thoughtfully.
"Ay, mester, and I suppose you are going to spoil it all with your big
drain," said the wheelwright, and he ceased poling for a few moments, as
the punt entered a natural canal through a reed-bed.
"Spoil it, my man! No. Only change its aspect. It will be as
beautiful in its way when corn is growing upon it, and far more useful."
"Ay, bud that's what our people don't think. Look, Mester Dick!"
Dick was already looking at a shoal of fish ahead flying out of the
water, falling back, and rising again, somewhat after the fashion of
flying-fish in the Red Sea.
"Know what that means?" said the wheelwright.
"Perch," said Dick, shortly. "A big chap too, and he has got one," he
added excitedly, as a large fish rose, made a tremendous splash, and
then seemed to be working its way among the bending reeds. "Might have
got him perhaps if we had had a line."
Mr Marston made no reply, for he was watching the slow heavy flap-flap
of a heron as it rose from before them with something indistinctly seen
in its beak.
"What has it got?" he said.
Dick turned sharply, and made out that there seemed to be a round knob
about the great bird's bill, giving it the appearance of having thrust
it through a turnip or a ball.
"Why, it's an eel," he cried, "twisting itself into a knot. Yes: look!"
The evening light gleamed upon the glistening skin of the fish, as it
suddenly untwisted itself, and writhed into another form. Then the
heron changed its direction, and nothing but the great, grey beating
pinions of the bird were visible, the long legs outstretched like a
tail, the bent back neck, and projecting beak being merged in the body
as it flew straight away.
Hickathrift worked hard at the pole, and soon after rounding one great
bed of reeds they came in sight of the rough gravelly patch with a
somewhat rounded outline, which formed the Warren, and upon which was
the hut inhabited by John o' the Warren, out of whose name "o'-the" was
generally dropped.
The moment they came in sight there was a loud burst of barking, and
Snig, John Warren's little rabbit-dog, came tearing down to the shore,
with the effect of rendering visible scores of rabbits, until then
unseen; for the dog's barking sent them scurrying off to their holes,
each displaying its clear, white, downy tuft of a tail, which showed
clearly in the evening light.
The dog's bark was at first an angry challenge, but as he came nearer
his tone changed to a whine of welcome; and as soon as he reached the
water's edge he began to perform a series of the most absurd antics,
springing round, dancing upon his hind-legs, and leaping up at each in
turn, as the visitors to the sandy island landed, and began to walk up
to the sick man's hut.
There were no rabbits visible now, but the ground was honey-combed with
their holes, many of which were quite close to the home of their tyrant
master, who lived as a sort of king among them, and slew as many as he
thought fit.
John Warren's home was not an attractive one, being merely a hut built
up of bricks of peat cut from the fen, furnished with a small window, a
narrow door, and thickly thatched with reeds.
He heard them coming, and, as they approached, came and stood at the
door, looking yellow, hollow of cheek, and shivering visibly.
"Here, John Warren, we've brought you a basket!" cried Dick. "How are
you? I say, don't you want the doctor?"
"Yah! what should I do with a doctor?" growled the man, scowling at all
in turn.
"To do you good," said Dick, laughing good-humouredly.
"He couldn't tell me nothing I dunno. I've got the ager."
"Well, aren't you going to ask us in?"
"Nay, lad. What do you want?"
"That basket," said Dick briskly. "Here, how is Dave?"
"Badly! Got the ager!"
"But is he no better?"
"Don't I tell you he's got the ager!" growled the man; and without more
ado he took the basket from the extended hand, opened the lid, and
turned it upside down, so that its contents rolled upon the sand, and
displayed the kind-heartedness of Mrs Winthorpe.
Dick glanced at Marston and laughed.
"Theer's your basket," growled John Warren. "Want any rabbuds?"
"No; they're out of season, John!" cried Dick. "You don't want us here,
then?"
"Nay; what should I want you here for?" growled the man. "Can't you see
I've got the ager?"
"Yes, I see!" cried Dick; "but you needn't be so precious cross.
Good-night!"
John Warren stared at Dick, and then at his two companions, and, turning
upon his heel, walked back into the hut, while Snig, his dog, seated
himself beside the contents of the basket, and kept a self-constituted
guard over them, from which he could not be coaxed.
"Might have showed us something about the Warren," said Dick in an
ill-used tone; "but never mind, there isn't much to see."
He turned to go back to the boat.
"I say, Hicky," he said; "let's go and see Dave. You won't mind
poling?"
"He says I won't mind poling, Mester Marston," said Hickathrift with a
chuckle. "Here, come along."
John Warren had disappeared into the cottage, but as they walked away
some of the rabbits came to the mouths of their holes and watched their
departure, while Snig, who could not leave his master's property,
uttered a valedictory bark from time to time.
"I say, Mr Marston," cried Dick, pausing, "isn't he a little beauty, to
have such a master! Look at him watching that food, and not touching
it. Wait a minute!"
Dick ran back to the dog and stooped down to open a cloth, when the
faithful guard began to snarl at him and show his teeth.
"Why, you ungrateful beggar!" cried Dick; "I was going to give you a bit
of the chicken. Lie down, sir!"
But Snig would not lie down. He only barked the more furiously.
"Do you want me to kick you?" cried Dick.
Snig evidently did, for not only did he bark, but he began to make
charges at the visitor's legs so fiercely that Dick deemed it prudent to
stand still for a few moments.
"Now, then," he said, as the dog seemed to grow more calm; "just see if
you can't understand plain English!"
The dog looked up at him and uttered a low whine, accompanying it by a
wag of the tail.
"That's better!" cried Dick. "I'm going to pull you off a leg of that
chicken for yourself. Do you understand?"
Snig gave a short, friendly bark.
"Ah, now you're a sensible dog," said Dick, stooping down to pick up the
cloth in which the chicken was wrapped; but Snig made such a furious
onslaught upon him that the boy started back, half in alarm, half in
anger, and turned away.
"Won't he let you touch it, Mester Dick?" chuckled Hickathrift.
"No; and he may go without," said Dick. "Come along!"
They returned to the boat, Snig giving them a friendly bark or two as
they got on board; and directly after, with lusty thrusts, the
wheelwright sent the punt along in the direction of Dave's home.
The evening was still beautiful, but here and there little patches of
mist hung over the water, and the rich glow in the west was fast fading
out.
"I say, Mr Marston," said Dick, "you'll stay at our place to-night?"
"No; I must go home, thank you," was the reply.
"But it will be so late!"
"Can't help that, Dick. I want to be out early with the men. They came
upon a great tree trunk this afternoon, and I want to examine it when it
is dug out. Is that Decoy Dave's place?"
"That's it, and there's Chip!" cried Dick, as the boat neared the shore.
"You see how different he'll be!"
Dick was right in calling attention to the dog's welcome, for Chip's
bark was one of delight from the very first, and dashing down to the
water, he rushed in and began swimming rapidly to meet them.
"Why, Chip, old doggie!" cried Dick, as, snorting and panting with the
water he splashed into his nostrils, the dog came aside, and after being
lifted into the boat gave himself a shake, and then thrust his nose into
every hand in turn. "This is something like a dog, Mr Marston!"
continued Dick.
"Yes; but he would behave just the same as the other," said the
engineer.
"Here's Dave," said Dick. "Hoy, Dave!"
The decoy-man came slowly down toward the shore to meet them, and waved
his hand in answer to Dick's call.
"Oh, I am sorry!" cried the latter. "I wish I'd brought him something
too. I daresay he's as bad as John Warren."
Dave's appearance proved the truth of Dick's assertion. The decoy-man
never looked healthy, but now he seemed ghastly of aspect and
exceedingly weak, as he leaned upon the tall staff he held in his hand.
"We've come to see how you are, Dave," cried Dick as the boat bumped up
against the boggy edge of the landing-place.
"That's kindly, Mester Dick. Servant, mester. How do, neighbour?"
Dave's head went up and down as if he had a hinge at the back; and as
the party landed, he too shivered and looked exceedingly feverish and
ill.
"Why, Dave, my man, you ought to see a doctor!" said Mr Marston,
kindly.
"Nay, sir, no good to do ought but bear it. Soon be gone. Only a
shivering fit."
"Well, I'm trying to doctor you," said the engineer, laughing. "Once we
get the fen drained, ague will begin to die out."
"Think so, mester?"
"I am sure so."
"Hear that, neighbour?" said Dave, looking at Hickathrift. "Think o'
the fen wi'out the shakes."
"We can't stop, Dave," cried Dick; "because we've got to get home, for
Mr Marston to walk over to the sea-bank to-night; but I'll come over
and see you to-morrow and bring you something. What would you like?"
"What you heven't got, Mester Dick," said the fen-man, showing his
yellow teeth. "Bit of opium or a drop o' lodolum. Nay, I don't want
you to send me owt. Neighbour Hick'thrift here'll get me some when he
goes over to market."
Hickathrift nodded, and after a little more conversation the party
returned toward the boat.
"Straange and thick to-night, Mester Dick," said Dave. "Be thicker
soon. Yow couldn't pole the boat across wi'out losing your way."
"Couldn't I?" cried Dick. "Oh, yes, I could! Good-night! I want you
to show Mr Marston some sport with the ducks some day."
"Ay; you bring him over, Mester Dick, and we'll hev' a good turn at the
'coy. Good-night!"
They pushed off, and before they were fifty yards from the shore the
boat seemed to enter a bank of mist, so thick that the wheelwright, as
he poled, was almost invisible from where Mr Marston and Dick were
seated.
"I say, Hicky, turn back and let's go along the edge of the fog," cried
Dick.
"Nay, it's driftin' ower us," replied the wheelwright. "Best keep on
and go reight through."
"Go on, then," cried Dick. "Feel how cold and damp it is."
"Feel it, Dick? Yes; and right in my wounded arm."
"Does it hurt much?"
"No; only aches. Why, how dense it is!"
"Can you find your way?"
"Dunno, mester. Best keep straight on, I think. Dessay it'll soon pass
over."
But it did not soon pass over; and as the wheelwright pushed on it
seemed to be into a denser mist than ever.
For a long time they were going over perfectly clear water; but soon the
rustling of reeds against the prow of the boat told that they must be
going wrong, and Hickathrift bore off to the right till the reeds warned
him to bear to the left. And so it went on, with the night falling, and
the thick mist seeming to shut them in, and so confusing him that at
last the wheelwright said:
"Best wait a bit, Mester Dick. I dunno which way I'm going, and it's
like being blind."
"Here, let me have the pole!" cried Dick. And going to the front of the
boat, the wheelwright good-humouredly gave way for him, with the result
that the lad vigorously propelled the craft for the space of about ten
minutes, ending by driving it right into a reed-bed and stopping short.
"Oh, I say, here's a muddle!" he cried. "You can't see where you are
going in the least."
"Shall I try?" said Mr Marston.
"Yes, do, please," cried Dick, eager to get out of his difficulty.
"Take the pole."
"No, thank you," was the laughing reply. "I cannot handle a pole, and
as to finding my way through this fog I could as soon fly."
_Bang_!
A heavy dull report of a gun from close by, and Hickathrift started
aside and nearly went overboard, but recovered himself, and sat down
panting.
"Here! hi! Mind where you're shooting!" cried Dick. "Who's that?"
He stared in the direction from which the sound had come, but nothing
but mist was visible, and no answer came.
"Do you hear? Who's that?" shouted Dick with both his hands to his
mouth.
No answer came, and Hickathrift now shouted.
Still no reply. His great sonorous voice seemed to return upon him, as
if he were enveloped in a tremendous tent of wet flannel; and though he
shouted again and again it was without result.
"Why, what's the matter with your hand, man?" cried Mr Marston, as the
wheelwright took his cotton kerchief from his neck, and began to bind it
round his bleeding palm.
"Nowt much, sir," said the man smiling.
"Why, Hickathrift, were you hit?"
"S'pose I weer, sir. Something came with a whuzz and knocked my hand
aside."
"Oh!" ejaculated Dick; while Mr Marston sat with his heart beating,
since in spite of his efforts to be cool he could not help recalling the
evening when he was shot, and he glanced round, expecting to see a flash
and hear another report.
Dick seized the pole which he had laid down, and, thrusting it down,
forced the punt back from the reeds, and then, as soon as they were in
open water, began to toil as hard as he could for a few minutes till the
wheelwright relieved him. Declaring his injury to be a trifle, he in
turn worked hard with the pole till, after running into the reeds
several times, and more than once striking against patches of bog and
rush, they must have got at least a mile from where the shot was fired,
by accident or purposely, when the great fellow sat down very suddenly
in the bottom of the boat.
As he seated himself he laid the pole across, and then without warning
fell back fainting dead away.
A few minutes, however, only elapsed before he sat up again and looked
round.
"Bit sick," he said. "That's all. Heven't felt like that since one o'
squire's horses kicked me and broke my ribs. Better now."
"My poor fellow, your hand must be badly hurt!" said Mr Marston; while
Dick looked wildly on, scared by what was taking place.
"Nay, it's nowt much, mester," said the great fellow rather huskily,
"and we'd best wait till the mist goes. It's no use to pole. We may be
going farther away, like as not."
Dick said nothing, but stood listening, fancying he heard the splash of
a pole in water; but there was no sound save the throbbing of his own
heart to break the silence, and he quite started as Mr Marston spoke.
"How long is this mist likely to last?"
"Mebbe an hour, mebbe a week," was the unsatisfactory reply. "Bud when
the moon rises theer may come a breeze, and then it'll go directly."
Hickathrift rested his chin upon his uninjured hand, and Dick sat down
in silence, for by one consent, and influenced by the feeling that some
stealthy foe might be near at hand keen-eyed enough to see them through
the fog, or at all events cunning enough to trace them by sound, they
sat and waited for the rising of the moon.
The time seemed to be drawn out to a terrible extent before there was a
perceptible lightening on their left; and as soon as he saw that, though
the mist was as thick as ever, Hickathrift rose and began to work with
the pole, for he knew his bearings now by the position of the rising
moon, and working away, in half an hour the little party emerged from
the mist as suddenly as they had dived in, but they were far wide of
their destination, and quite another hour elapsed before they reached
the old willow-stump, where the wheelwright made fast his boat, and
assuring his companions that there was nothing much wrong he went to his
cottage, while Mr Marston gladly accompanied Dick to the Toft, feeling
after the shock they had had that even if it had not been so late, a
walk down to the sea-beach that night would neither be pleasant nor one
to undertake.
Dick was boiling over with impatience, and told his father the news the
moment they entered the room where supper was waiting.
"A shot from close by!" cried the squire, excitedly.
"Yes, Mr Winthorpe," said the engineer; "and I'm afraid, greatly
afraid, it was meant for me."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
HICKY'S OPINIONS.
"Nay, lads, I don't say as it weer the will-o'-the-wisps, only as it
might have been."
"Now, Hicky," cried Dick, "who ever heard of a will-o'-the-wisp with a
gun?"
"Can't say as ever I did," said the wheelwright; "but I don't see why
not."
"What stuff! Do you hear what he says, Tom? He says it may have been
one of the will-o'-the-wisps that shot and broke his finger."
"A will-o'-the-wisp with a gun!" cried Tom. "Ha! ha! ha!"
"Why shouldn't a will hev a goon as well as a lanthorn?" said
Hickathrift, stolidly.
"Why, where would he get his powder and shot?" said Dick.
"Same place as he gets his candle for his lanthorn."
"Oh, but what nonsense! The will-o'-the-wisp is a light that moves
about," cried Dick. "It is not anybody."
"I don't know so much about that," said the wheelwright, lifting up his
bandaged hand. "All I know is that something shot at me, and broke my
finger just the same as something shot at Mester Marston. They don't
like it, lads. Mark my words, they don't like it."
"Who don't like what?" said Tom.
"Will-o'-the-wisps don't like people cootting big drains acrost the fen,
my lads. They don't mind you fishing or going after the eels with the
stong-gad; but they don't like the draining, and you see if it don't
come to harm!"
"Nonsense!" cried Dick. "But I say, Hicky, you are so quiet about it
all, did you see who it was shot at you?"
The big wheelwright looked cautiously round, as if in fear of being
overheard, and then said in a husky whisper:
"Ay, lads, I seen him."
"What was he like, Hicky?" said Tom, who suffered a peculiar kind of
thrill as the wheelwright spoke.
"Somethin' between a big cloud, shape of a man, and a flash of lightning
with a bit o' thunder."
"Get out!" roared Dick. "Why, he's laughing at us, Tom."
"Nay, lads, I'm not laughing. It's just what I seemed to see, and it
'most knocked me over."
"It's very queer," said Dick thoughtfully. "But I say, Hicky, what did
the doctor say to your hand? Will it soon get well?"
"Didn't go to the doctor, lad."
"Why, what did you do then?"
"Went to old Mikey Dodbrooke, the bone-setter."
"What did you go to him for?"
"Because it's his trade. He knows how to mend bones better than any
doctor."
"Father says he's an old sham, and doesn't understand anything about
it," said Dick. "You ought to have gone to the doctor, or had him, same
as Mr Marston did."
"Tchah!" ejaculated Hickathrift. "Why, he had no bones broken. Doctors
don't understand bone-setting."
"Who says so?"
"The bone-setter."
"Well, is it getting better, Hicky?"
"Oh yes! It ar'n't very bad. Going down to the drain?"
"Yes. Mr Marston's found a curious great piece of wood, and the men
are digging it out."
"Don't stop late, my lads," said the wheelwright, anxiously. "I
wouldn't be coming back after dark when the will-o'-the-wisps is out."
"I don't believe all that stuff, Hicky," said Dick. "Father says--"
"Eh! What does he say?" cried the wheelwright, excitedly.
"That he thinks it's one of Mr Marston's men who has a spite against
him, and that when there was that shot the other night, it was meant for
the engineer."
"Hah! Yes! Maybe," said the wheelwright, drawing a long breath and
looking relieved. "But I wouldn't stop late, my lads."
"We shall stop just as long as we like, sha'n't we, Tom?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall come and meet you, my lads. I sha'n't be happy till I see
you back safe."
"I say, Hicky, you've got a gun, haven't you?" said Tom.
"Eh! A goon!" cried the wheelwright, starting.
"Yes; you've got one?"
"An old one. She's roosty, and put awaya. I heven't hed her out for
years."
"Clean it up, and bring it, Hicky," said Dick. "We may get a shot at
something. I say, you'd lend me that gun if I wanted it, wouldn't you?"
"Nay, nay; thou'rt not big enew to handle a goon, lad. Wait a bit for
that."
"Come along, Tom!" cried Dick. "And I say, Hicky, bring the
forge-bellows with you, so as we can blow out the will's light if he
comes after us."
"Haw--haw--haw--haw!" rang out like the bray of a donkey with a bad
cold; and Jacob, Hickathrift's lad, threw back his head, and roared till
his master gave him a sounding slap on the back, and made him close his
mouth with a snap, look serious, and go on with his work.
"Jacob laughs just like our old Solemn-un, sometimes," said Dick
merrily. "Come along!"
The morning was hot, but there was a fine brisk breeze from off the sea,
and the lads trudged on, talking of the progress of the drain, and the
way in which people grumbled.
"Father says that if he had known he wouldn't have joined the
adventure," said Tom.
"And my father says, the more opposition there is, the more he shall go
on, for if people don't know what's good for them they've got to be
taught. There's a beauty!"
Dick went off in chase of a swallow-tail butterfly--one of the beautiful
insects whose home was in the fens; but after letting him come very
close two or three times, the brightly-marked creature fluttered off
over the treacherous bog, a place of danger for followers, of safety for
the insect.
"That's the way they always serve you," said Dick.
"Well, you don't want it."
"No, I don't want it. Yes I do. Mr Marston said he should like a few
more to put in his case. I say, they are getting on with the drain,"
Dick continued, as he shaded his eyes and gazed at where, a mile away,
the engineer's men were wheeling peat up planks, and forming a long
embankment on either side of the cutting through the fen.
"Can you see Mr Marston from here?"
"Why, of course not! Come along! I say, Tom, you didn't think what old
Hicky said was true, did you?"
"N-n-no. Of course not."
"Why, you did. Ha--ha--ha! That's what father and Mr Marston call
superstition. I shall tell Mr Marston that you believe in
will-o'-the-wisps."
"Well, so do you. Who can help believing in them, when you see them
going along over the fen on the soft dark nights!"
"Oh, I believe in the lights," said Dick, "but that's all I don't
believe they shot Mr Marston and old Hicky; that's all stuff!"
"Well, somebody shot them, and my father says it ought to be found out
and stopped."
"So does mine; but how are you going to find it out? He thinks
sometimes it's one and sometimes another; and if we wait long enough, my
gentleman is sure to be caught."
"Ah, but is it a man?"
"Why, you don't think it's a woman, do you?"
"No, of course not; but mightn't it be something--I mean one of the--
well, you know what I mean."
"Yes, I know what you mean," cried Dick--"a ghost--a big tall white
ghost, who goes out every night shooting, and has a will-o'-the-wisp on
each side with a lantern to show him a light."
"Ah, it's all very well for you to laugh now out in the sunshine; but if
it was quite dark you wouldn't talk like that."
"Oh yes, I should!"
"I don't believe it," said Tom; "and I'll be bound you were awfully
frightened when Hicky was shot. Come, tell the truth now--weren't you?"
"There goes a big hawk, Tom. Look!" cried Dick, suddenly becoming
interested in a broad-winged bird skimming along just over the surface
of the fen; and this bird sufficed to change the conversation, which was
getting unpleasant for Dick, till they came to the place where the men
were hard at work on the huge ditch, the boggy earth from which, piled
up as it was, serving to consolidate the sides and keep them from
flooding the fen when the drain was full, and the high-tide prevented
the water from coming out by the flood-gates at the end.
Mr Marston welcomed the lads warmly.
"I've got a surprise for you," he said.
"What is it--anything good?" cried Dick.
"That depends on taste, my boy. Come and see."
He led the way along the black ridge of juicy peat, to where, in an
oblique cutting running out from the main drain, a dozen men were at
work, with their sharp spades cutting out great square bricks of peat,
and clearing away the accumulations of hundreds of years from the sides
of what at first appeared to be an enormous trunk of a tree, but which,
upon closer inspection, drew forth from Dick a loud ejaculation.
"Why, it's an old boat!" cried Tom.
"That it is, my lad."
"But how did it come there?" cried Dick, gazing wonderingly at the black
timber of the ancient craft.
"Who can tell, Dick? Perhaps it floated out of the river at some time
when there was a flood, and it was too big to move back again, and the
people in the days when it was used did not care to dig a canal from
here to the river."
"Half a mile," said Dick.
"No, no. Not more than a quarter."
"But it doesn't look like a fishing-boat," said Dick.
"No, my lad. As far as I can make out, it is the remains of an old war
galley."
"Then it must have belonged to the Danes."
"Danes or Saxons, Dick."
"But the wood's sound," cried Tom. "It can't be so old as that."
"Why not, Tom? Your people dig out pine-roots, don't they, perfectly
sound, and full of turpentine? This is pine wood, and full of
turpentine too."
"But it's such a while since the Danes and Saxons were here, Mr
Marston," said Tom.
"A mere yesterday, my lad, compared to the time when the country about
here was a great pine and birch forest, before this peat began to form."
"Before the peat began to form!"
"To be sure! Pine and birch don't grow in peaty swamps, but in sandy
ground with plenty of gravel. Look all about you at the scores of great
pine-roots my men have dug out. They are all pine, and there must have
been quite a large forest here once."
"And was that farther back?"
"Perhaps thousands of years before the Danes first landed. The peat
preserves the wood, Tom. Bog is not rotten mud, but the decayed masses
that have grown in the watery expanse. Well, Dick, what do you think of
it?"
"I wish we could get it home to our place to keep as a curiosity?"
"But it would want a shed over it, my lad, for the rain, wind, and sun
would soon make an end of it."
"Then, what are you going to do?"
"Get it out and up that slope they are cutting, along some planks if we
can, and then fill up the trench."
The lads inspected the curious-looking old hull, whose aspect seemed to
bring up recollections of the history of early England, when
fierce-looking men, half sailors, half warriors, came over from the
Norland in boats like this, propelled by great oars, and carrying a
short thick mast and one sail. All the upper portions had rotted away,
but enough of the hull remained to show pretty well what its shape must
have been, and that it had had a curiously-projecting place that must
have curved out like the neck of a bird, the whole vessel having borne a
rough resemblance to an elongated duck or swan.
The boys were, however, by no means so enthusiastic as the engineer; and
as a great figure came looming up behind them, Dick was ready enough to
welcome the incident of the man's reminder about the disturbance at the
Toft.
"We're mates, we are," cried the great fellow, holding out his broad
hairy hand to take Dick's in his grasp, and shake it steadily up and
down. "I heven't forgot, I heven't forgot."
"Are you all right again, Bargle?" said Dick, trying in vain to
extricate his hand.
"Yeees. Knock o' the yead don't hot me. See here."
He slowly drew out of his pocket a great piece of dark-yellow ivory,
evidently the point, and about a foot in length, of the tusk of some
animal, probably an elephant.
"Theer's what I promised you, lad. That's a tush, that is. What yer
think o' that?"
Dick did not seem to know what to think of it, but he expressed his
gratitude as well as he could, and had to shake hands again and again
with the great fellow, who seemed to take intense delight in smiling at
Dick and shaking his head at him.
How long this scene would have lasted it is impossible to say; but at
last, as it was growing irksome, there came a shout from the end of the
drain.
"They've found something else," said Mr Marston; and the lads needed no
telling to hasten their steps, for the finding of _something_ buried in
the peat could not fail to prove interesting; but in this case the
discovery was startling to the strongest nerves.
As they neared the end of the drain where the men were slowly delving
out the peat, and a section of the bog was before them showing about
twelve feet of, the wet black soil, Mr Marston stepped eagerly forward,
and the group of men who were standing together opened out to let him
and his companions pass through.
Dick shuddered at the object before him: the figure of a man clothed
apparently in some kind of leather garb, and partly uncovered from the
position it had occupied in the peat.
"Some un been murdered and berrid," growled Bargle, who was close
behind.
"No, my man," said Mr Marston, taking a spade and cutting down some
more of the turf, so as to lay bare the figure from the middle of the
thigh to the feet.
"Lemme come," growled Bargle, striding forward and almost snatching the
sharp spade from his leader's hand.
"Don't hurt it," cried Mr Marston, giving way.
"Nay, no fear o' hotting him," growled Bargle, grinning, and, bending to
his work, he deftly cut away the black peat till the figure stood before
them upright in the bog as if fitted exactly in the face of the section
like some brownish-black fossil of a human being.
It was the figure of a man in a leather garb, and wearing a kind of
gaiters bound to the legs by strips of hide which went across and across
from the instep to far above the knee. There was a leathern girdle
about the waist, and one hand was slightly raised, as if it had held a
staff or spear, but no remains of these were to be seen. Probably the
head had once been covered, but it was bare now, and a quantity of long
shaggy hair still clung to the dark-brown skin, the face being half
covered by a beard; and, in spite of the brown-black leathery aspect of
the face, and the contracted skin, it did not seem half so horrible as
might have been supposed.
"Why, boys," said Mr Marston after a long examination, "this might be
the body of someone who lived as long back as the date when that old
galley was in use."
"So long back as that!" cried Dick, looking curiously at the strange
figure, whose head was fully six feet below the surface of the bog.
"Got a-walking across in the dark, and sinked in," said Bargle gruffly.
That might or might not have been the case. At any rate there was the
body of a man in a wonderful state of preservation, kept from decay by
the action of the peat; and, judging from the clothing, the body must
have been in its position there for many hundred years.
"What's got to be done now?" said Bargle. "We want to get on."
Mr Marston gave prompt orders, which resulted in a shallow grave being
dug in the peat about fifty yards from where the drain was being cut,
and in this the strange figure was carefully laid, ready for exhumation
by any naturalist who should wish to investigate farther; and after this
was done, and a careful search made for remains of weapons or coins, the
cutting of the drain progressed; till, after an enjoyable day with the
engineer, the boys said good-bye, and tried to escape without having to
shake hands with Bargle.
But this was not to be. The big fellow waylaid them, smiling and
holding out his hand to Dick for a farewell grip, and a declaration that
they were mates.
About half-way back, and just as it was growing toward sundown, they
were met by Hickathrift, who came up smiling, and looking like a Bargle
carefully smoothed down.
"Thought I'd see you safe back," said Hickathrift so seriously that a
feeling of nervousness which had not before existed made the boys glance
round and look suspiciously at a reed-bed on one side and a patch of
alders on the other.
"What are you talking like that for?" cried Dick angrily; "just as if we
couldn't walk along here and be quite safe! What is there to mind?"
The wheelwright shook his head and looked round uneasily, as if he too
felt the influence of coming danger; but no puff of smoke came from
clump of bushes or patch of reeds; no sharp report rose from the alders
that fringed part of the walk, and they reached the wheelwright's
cottage without adventure.
Here Hickathrift began to smile in a peculiar way, and, having only one
hand at liberty, he made use of it to grip Dick by the arm, and use him
as if he were an instrument or tool for entrapping Tom, with the result
that he packed them both into his cottage, and into the presence of his
wife, who was also smiling, as she stood behind a cleanly-scrubbed
table, upon which was spread a tempting-looking supper.
"Here, Hicky, don't! What do you mean?" cried Dick, whom the great
fellow's grip punished.
"Wittles," said the wheelwright, indulging in a broad grin.
"Oh, nonsense! We're off home. Tom Tallington's going to have supper
with me."
"Nay, he's going to hev his supper here along o' uz," said Hickathrift.
"Didn't I say, missus, I'd bring 'em home?"
"Yes, Mester Dick," cried Mrs Hickathrift; "and thank ye kindly, do
stop."
"Oh, but we must get back!" cried Dick, who shrank from partaking of the
wheelwright's kindly hospitality.
"Theer, I towd you so," cried Mrs Hickathrift to her husband, and
speaking in an ill-used tone. "They're used to table-cloths, and
squire's wife's got silver spoons."
"Nay, nay, never mind the cloths and spoons, Mester Dick; stop and have
a bite."
"But, Hicky--"
"Nay, now," cried the wheelwright interrupting; "don't thee say thou'rt
not hungry."
"I wasn't going to," said Dick, laughing, "because I am horribly hungry.
Aren't you, Tom?"
Tom showed his teeth. It was meant for a smile, but bore a wonderful
resemblance to a declaration of war against the food upon the table.
"Don't be proud, then, lad. Stop. Why, you nivver knew me say I
wouldn't when I've been at your place."
That appeal removed the last objection, and the boys took off their
caps, sat down with the wheelwright, and Mrs Hickathrift, according to
the custom, waited upon them.
It is unnecessary to state what there was for supper, and how many times
Dick and Tom had their plates replenished with--never mind what--and--it
does not signify. Suffice it to say that for the space of half an hour
the wheelwright's wife was exceedingly busy; and when at the end of an
hour the trio rose from the table, and Hickathrift filled his pipe, both
of his visitors seemed as if they had gone through a process of taming.
For though a boy--a hearty boy in his teens--living say anywhere, can,
as a rule, eat, in the exception of boys of the old fen-land, where the
eastern breezes blow right off the German Ocean, they were troubled with
an appetite which was startling, and might have been condemned but for
the fact that it resulted in their growing into magnificent specimens of
humanity, six feet high not being considered particularly tall.
It was quite late when the boys reached the Toft, to find the squire
standing outside smoking his pipe and waiting for them.
"Where have you been, lads?" he said; and on being told, he uttered a
good-humoured grunt, and laying his hand upon Tom's shoulder, "Here," he
said, "you'd better stop with Dick to-night. They won't be uneasy at
home?"
"No, sir," said Tom naively; "I told father perhaps I should stay."
"Oh, you did, eh!" said the squire. "Well, you're welcome. If you
don't want any supper, you'd better be off to bed."
Both lads declared that they did not want any supper, but Mrs Winthorpe
had made certain preparations for them which they could not resist, and
something very like a second meal was eaten before they retired for the
night.
As a rule, when one boy has a visitor for bed-fellow, it is some time
before there is peace in that room. Set aside unruly demonstrations
whose effects are broken pillowcase strings, ruptured bolsters, and
loose feathers about the carpet, if nothing worse has happened in the
way of broken jugs and basins, there is always something else to say at
the end of the long conversation upon the past day's occurrences or the
morrow's plans.
But in this instance it was doubtful whether Dick fell asleep in the act
of getting into bed, or whether Tom was nodding as he undressed; suffice
it that the moment their heads touched pillows they were fast asleep,
and the big beetle which flew in at the open window and circled about
the room had it all to himself. Now he ground his head against the
ceiling, then he rasped his wings against the wall, then he buzzed in
one corner, burred in another, and banged himself up against the white
dimity curtains, till, seeing what appeared to be a gleam of light in
the looking-glass, he swept by the open window, out of which he could
easily have passed, and struck himself so heavily against the mirror
that he fell on the floor with a pat, and probably a dint in his steely
blue armour.
Then came a huge moth, and almost simultaneously a bat, to whirr round
and round over the bed and along the ceiling, while from off the dark
waters of the fen came from time to time strange splashings and uncouth
cries, which would have startled a wakeful stranger to these parts. Now
and then a peculiar moan would be heard, then what sounded like a
dismal, distant roaring, followed by the cackling of ducks, and
plaintive whistlings of ox-birds, oyster-catchers, and sandpipers, all
of which seemed to be very busy hunting food in the soft stillness of
the dewy night.
But neither splash nor cry awakened the sleepers, who were, like Barney
O'Reardon, after keeping awake for a week; when they went to sleep they
paid "attintion to it," and the night wore on till it must have been one
o'clock.
The bat and the moth had managed to find their way out of the open
window at last, and perhaps out of malice had told another bat and
another moth that it was a delightful place in there. At all events
another couple were careering about, the moth noisily brushing its wings
against wall and ceiling, the bat silently on its fine soft leather
wings, but uttering a fine squeak now and then, so thin, and sharp, and
shrill that, compared to other squeaks, it was as the point of a fine
needle is to that of a tenpenny nail.
The beetle had got over the stunning blow it had received, to some
extent, and had carefully folded up and put away its gauzy wings beneath
their hard horny cases, deeming that he would be better off and safer if
he walked for the rest of the night, and after a good deal of awkward
progression he came to the side of the bed.
It was a hot night, and some of the clothes had been kicked off, so that
the counterpane on Tom's side touched the floor. In contact with this
piece of drapery the beetle came, and began to crawl up, taking his time
pretty well, and finally reaching the bed.
Here he turned to the left and progressed slowly till he reached the
pillow, which he climbed, and in a few more moments found himself in
front of a cavern in a forest--a curiously designed cavern, with a cosy
hole in connection with certain labyrinths.
This hole seemed just of a size to suit the beetle's purpose, and he
proceeded to enter for the purpose of snuggling up and taking a good
long nap to ease the dull aching he probably felt in his bruised head.
But, soundly as Tom Tallington slept, the scriggly legs of a beetle were
rather too much when they began to work in his ear, and he started up
and brushed the creature away, the investigating insect falling on the
floor with a sharp rap.
Tom sat listening to the sounds which came through the window and heard
the splashing of water in the distance, and the pipings and quackings of
the wild-fowl; but as he leaned forward intently and looked through the
open window at the starry sky, there were other noises he heard which
made him think of sundry occasions at home when he had been awakened by
similar sounds.
After a few moments he lay down again, but started up directly, got out
of bed, and went to the window to listen.
The next minute he was back at the bed-side.
"Dick," he whispered, shaking him; "Dick!"
"What is it?"
"There's something wrong with the horses."
"Nonsense!"
"There is, I tell you. Sit up and listen."
"Oh, I say, what a nuisance you are! I was having such a dream!"
Dick sat up and listened, and certainly a sound came from the yard.
He jumped out of bed and went with Tom to the open window, but all was
perfectly still round the house, and he was about to return to bed when
a dim shadowy-looking creature flew silently across the yard.
Dick uttered a peculiar squeak which was so exactly like that of a mouse
that the bird curved round in its flight, came rapidly up toward the
window, and hovered there with extended claws, and its great eyes
staring from its full round face.
The next moment it was flying silently away, but another shrill squeak
brought it back to hover before them, staring in wonder, till,
apparently divining that it was being imposed upon, it swooped away.
"What a big owl!" said Tom in a whisper. "There! Hear that?"
Dick did hear _that_! A low whinnying noise, and the blow given by a
horse's hoof, as if it had stamped impatiently while in pain.
Directly after there was a mournful lowing from the direction of the
cow-house, followed by an angry bellow.
"That's old Billy," said Dick. "What's the matter with the things!
It's a hot night, and some kind of flies are worrying them. Here, let's
get to bed."
He was moving in the direction of the bed; but just then there was
another louder whinnying from the lodge where the cart-horses were kept,
and a series of angry stamps, followed by a bellow from the bull.
"There is something wrong with the beasts," said Dick. "I'll call
father. No, I won't. Perhaps it's nothing. Let's go down and see."
"But we should have to dress."
"No; only slip on our trousers and boots. You'll go with me, won't
you?"
"Yes, I'll go," said Tom; "but I don't want to."
"What! after waking me up to listen!"
"Oh, I'll go!" said Tom, following his companion's lead and beginning to
dress.
"Tell you what," said Dick; "we'll get out of the window and drop down."
"And how are we to get back?"
"Short ladder," said Dick laconically. "Come along. Ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
The boys moved to the window, and, setting the example, Dick placed one
leg out, and was seated astride the sill, when the bed-room door was
suddenly thrown open, and the squire appeared.
"Now, then! What does this mean?" he cried angrily.
"We heard something wrong with the beasts, father, and we were going to
see," cried Dick.
"Heard something wrong with the beasts, indeed! Yes, and I heard
something wrong with them. Now, then, both of you jump into bed, and if
I hear another sound, I'll--"
The squire stopped short, for there was a piteous whinny from the stable
again.
"There, father! and old Billy's got something the matter with him too,"
cried Dick eagerly, the bull endorsing his statement with a melancholy
bellow.
"Why, there is something wrong, then, my boys!" said the squire, angry
now with himself for suspecting them of playing some prank. "Here,
let's go down."
He led the way directly, and lit a lantern in the kitchen before
throwing back the bolts and going out, armed with a big stick, the boys
following close behind, and feeling somewhat awe-stricken at the
strangeness of the proceedings.
"Hullo, my lads, what is it then?" cried the squire, entering the rough
stable, where three horses were fastened up, and all half lying in the
straw.
One of them turned to him with a piteous whinny, and then the great soft
eyes of all three of the patient beasts were turned toward them, the
light gleaming upon their eyes strangely.
"Why, what's this?" cried the squire, holding down the lantern, whose
light fell upon the hocks of the poor beasts. "Oh, it's too cruel! what
savage has done this!"
As he held down the light the boys hardly realised what had happened.
All they could make out was that the light gleamed horribly on the
horses' hind-legs, and Dick exclaimed:
"Why, they must have been kicking, father, terribly!"
"Kicking, my boy!" groaned the squire. "I wish they had kicked the
monster to death who has done this."
"Done this! Has anybody done this?" faltered Dick, while Tom turned
quite white.
"Yes; don't you understand?"
"No, father," cried Dick, looking at him vacantly.
"The poor beasts have been houghed--hamstrung by some cruel wretch.
Here, quick!"
He hurried across to the lodge where a favourite cow and the bull were
tethered, and as he saw that these poor beasts had been treated in the
same barbarous way--
"Did you hear or see anyone, Dick?" he cried, turning sharply on his
son.
"No, father. I was asleep till Tom woke me, and told me that the beasts
were uneasy."
"It is too cruel, too cruel," groaned the squire huskily. "What is to
happen next? Here, go and call up the men. You, Tom Tallington, go and
rouse up Hickathrift. We may be in time to catch the wretches who have
done this. Quick, boys! quick! And if I do--"
He did not finish his sentence; but as the boys ran off he walked into
the house, to return with his gun, and thus armed he made a hasty survey
of the place.
By the time he had done, Dick was back with the men, and soon after,
Hickathrift came panting up, with Tom; but though a hot search was
carried on for hours, nothing more was found, and by breakfast-time five
reports had rung out on the bright morning air, as Squire Winthorpe
loaded his old flint-lock gun with a leaden bullet five times, and put
the poor helpless suffering brutes out of their misery.
"Three good useful horses, and the best-bred bull and cow in the marsh,
squire," said Farmer Tallington, who had come over as soon as he heard
the news. "Any idea who it could be?"
"No," said the squire; "thank goodness, no. I don't want to find out
the wretch's name, Tallington, for I'm a hot-tempered, passionate man."
"It's the drain, neighbour, the drain," said the farmer, shaking his
head. "Let's be content with the money we've lost, and try to put a
stop to proceedings before we suffer more and worse. There's them about
as hev sworn the drain sha'n't be made, and it's the same hands that
fired my stacks and those shots, neighbour."
"I daresay it is, farmer," said the squire sternly; "but do you know
what it says in the Book about the man who puts his hand to the plough?"
"Ay, I think I know what you mean."
"And so do you, Dick?" said the squire.
"Yes, father."
"Well, my boy, I've put my hand to the plough to do a good, honest,
sensible work, and, knowing as I do, that it's a man's duty to go on
with it, I shall stand fast, come what may."
"And not leave me in the lurch, Mr Winthorpe?" said a voice.
"No, Marston, not if they hamstring me in turn," cried the squire,
holding out his hand to the young engineer, who had hurried over. "I
suppose I shall get a bullet in me one of these days; but never mind,
we've begun the drain. And do you hear, all of you?" he shouted;
"spread it about that the fen will be drained, and that if they killed
me, and a hundred more who took my place, it would still be done."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE MAN OF SUSPICION.
There was a good deal of inquiry made about the houghing of Squire
Winthorpe's horses, and there was a great deal of excitement before the
poor beasts were skinned, for their hides to go to town to the tanyard
and their carcasses were carted away.
People came from miles in all directions, including all the men who were
at work for Mr Marston--every one to stand and stare at the poor dead
beasts and say nothing.
Small farmers, fen-men, people from the town, folk from the shore where
the cockle-beds lay, and the fisher-people who were supposed to live
upon very little fish and a great deal of smuggling.
Even Dave and John Warren punted themselves over, both looking yellow
and thin, and so weak that they could hardly manage their poles; and
they too stared, the former frowning at the bull and shaking his head at
the horses, but wiping away a weak tear as he stood by the cow.
"Many's the drop of good fresh milk the missus has given me from her,
Mester Dick," he said with a sigh; "and now theer's no cow, no milk, no
nothing for a poor sick man. Hey, bud the ager's a sad thing when you
hev it bad as this."
There was a visit from a couple of magistrates, who asked a great many
questions, and left behind them a squinting constable, who took very bad
snuff, and annoyed Dick by looking at him suspiciously, as if he
believed him to be the cause of all the mischief. This man stopped in
the village at a cottage next to Hickathrift's, from which place he made
little journeys in all directions, evidently full of the belief that he
was going to discover the people who did all this mischief in the
neighbourhood.
This constable's name was Thorpeley, and he did a great deal of business
with a brass box and a short black clay-pipe, in which he smoked short
black tobacco.
"I don't know," said Dick one day as he stood with his arms folded,
leaning upon Solomon, talking to Tom Tallington and staring at Thorpeley
the constable, who was leaning against a post smoking and staring with
one eye at the fen, while with the other he watched the group of three
in the Toft farm-yard.
"Well, I'm sure I don't," said Tom. "He never goes over to the town to
buy any."
"And Hicky says nobody fetches any for him, but he always seems to have
plenty though he hasn't any luggage or box or anything."
"No; I saw him come," said Tom. "He only had a small bundle in a red
handkerchief!"
"And he keeps on smoking from morning till night."
"And watching you!"
"Yes. He's always watching me," cried Dick in an aggrieved tone.
"Stand still, will you? Yes, you'd better! You kick, and I'll kick
you!"
This was to Solomon, who had hitched up his back in an arch, laid down
his ears, thrust his head between his fore-legs and his tail between his
hind, giving himself the aspect of being about to reach under and bite
the tip of the said tail. But that was not the case, and Dick knew by
experience that all this was preparatory to a display of kicking.
Solomon may have understood plain English or he may not. This is a
matter which cannot be decided. At all events he slowly raised his head
and twisted his tail in a peculiar manner, stretched out his neck, and
cocking his ears he sighed loudly a sigh like the fag-end of a long
bray, all of which seemed to point to the fact that he felt himself to
be a slave in leathern chains, gagged with a rusty bit, and at the mercy
of his master.
"Flies tease him," said Tom apologetically. "Poor old Sol!"
"Don't touch him!" cried Dick, "or he'll kick you."
"Poor old Sol!" said Tom again, and this time he approached the donkey's
head.
"Don't touch him, I tell you! He'll bite if you do! He's in a nasty
temper because I would put on his bridle, and I was obliged to persuade
him to be quiet with a pitchfork handle."
"What a shame!" said Tom.
"Shame, eh! Just you look here," cried Dick, and down one of his coarse
worsted stockings, he displayed a great bruise on his white leg. "He
did that three days ago, and he tried to do it again this morning, only
I was too quick for him."
"Haugh! haugh-h-haugh!" sighed Solomon in a most dismal tone.
"Says he's sorry for it!" cried Tom, grinning.
"Oh, very well then, I'm sorry I hit him with the pitchfork handle. I
say, Tom, I gave him such a whop!"
"Where did you hit him?"
"Where I could. You can't pick your place when you try to hit Solomon.
You must look sharp or you'll get it first."
"But he wouldn't be so disagreeable if you were kind to him," said Tom.
"Poor old Sol, then!"
There was a sharp twist of the donkey's neck, and, quick as lightning,
the fierce little animal made a grab at Tom. Fortunately he missed his
shoulder, but he got tightly hold of the sleeve of his coat, and held on
till Dick gave him a furious kick, when he let go.
"Kick him again, Dick!" cried Tom, who looked very pale. "Ugh! the
treacherous beast!"
"It's his nature," said Dick coolly, as he resumed his position and
leaned over the donkey's back. "He always was so from a foal! Father's
always kind to dumb beasts, and feeds them well, and nurses them when
they're ill; but he often gives Solomon a crack. I say, look at old
Thorpeley; he's watching you now."
"He isn't; he's looking all round. I say, Dick, you can't tell where he
is looking. I wonder what makes any one squint like that!"
"Had one of his eyes knocked out and put in again upside down," said
Dick.
"Get out!" cried Tom.
"Haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh, haugh!" cried Solomon.
"There, he's laughing at you. I say, Dick, do you think he really does
watch us?"
"Sure of it. He thinks I houghed the poor horses. I know he does, and
he expects to find out that I did it by following me about."
"How do you know he suspects you?"
"Because he is always asking questions about our window being open that
night, and about how I found out there was something the matter with the
poor beasts. I say, Tom, I hate that fellow."
"So do I," said Tom in tones which indicated his loyalty to his friend.
"Let's serve him out!"
"Oh, but you mustn't! A constable is sworn in."
"What difference does that make?"
"I don't know, but he is; and he has a little staff in his pocket with a
brass crown upon it, and he says, `In the king's name!'"
"Well, let him if he likes. The king in London can't know what we do
down here in the fen. I say, let's serve him out!"
"No," said Dick, "it might get father into trouble. I say, I know what
I'll do if you like."
"What, take him out in a boat and upset it?"
"No, lend him Solomon to ride!"
As he spoke Dick looked at Tom and Tom looked at Dick before they both
burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"Here, let's get away. He's coming!"
Dick turned to go, but Solomon objected. Possibly he understood what
had been said. At all events he stood fast, and refused to move till,
in obedience to a call from his friend, Tom took hold of the bridle and
dragged, while Dick made a sudden rush behind, as if to deliver a
tremendous kick.
Solomon sighed and consented to move, and, evidently considering himself
mastered, he became amiable, made a playful attempt to bite, and then
started off at a canter.
"Jump on, Tom!" cried Dick.
The lad wanted no second invitation, but scuffled on to the donkey's
back as it went on, and the trio trotted along for about a hundred
yards.
"Where shall we go?" cried Tom.
"Straight on. Let's see how Mr Marston's getting along. Here, you
ride on to the alders' corner and tie up Sol, and then go on."
"I say: here's the constable coming." Dick looked back and frowned.
"There, I told you so!" he cried. "It doesn't matter what I do, that
man watches me."
"He's only going for a walk."
"Going for a walk!" cried Dick fiercely; "he's following me. You'll see
he'll keep to me all the time. I should like to serve him out."
Tom was going to say something else, but his words were jerked out at
random, and the next died away, for, as if he approved of the smell of
the salt-sea air, Solomon suddenly whisked his tail, uttered a squeak,
and after a bound went off at a tremendous gallop, stretching out like a
greyhound, and showing what speed he possessed whenever he liked to put
it forth.
The sudden spring he made produced such comical effects that Dick
Winthorpe stopped short in the rough track along the edge of the fen, to
laugh. For Tom Tallington had been seated carelessly on the donkey's
back right behind, and turned half round to talk to his companion. The
consequence was that he was jerked up in the air, and came down again as
if bound to slip off. But Tom and Dick had practised the art of riding
almost ever since they could run alone, and in their early lessons one
had ridden astride the top bar of a gate hundreds of times, while the
other swung it open and then threw it back, the great feat being to give
the gate a tremendous bang against the post, so as to nearly shake the
rider from his seat.
The jerk was unpleasant, at times even painful; but it taught the lads
to hold on with their legs, and made them better able to display their
prowess in other mounts which were tested from time to time.
They were not particular as to what they turned into a steed. Sometimes
it was Farmer Tallington's Hips, the brindled cow, when she was fetched
from the end of the home close to be milked. This would have been one
of the calmest of rides, and afforded plenty of room for both boys to
ride Knight-Templar fashion, after old Sam had helped them on, but it
was not a ride much sought for, because Hips was not a mollusc. Quite
the contrary: she was a vertebrate animal, very vertebrate indeed, and a
ride on her back represented a journey upon the edge of a Brobdingnagian
blunt saw, set up along a kind of broad lattice covered with a skin.
There was a favourite old sow at the Toft which was often put in
requisition, but she only carried one. Still it was a comfortable seat,
only in the early days of the boys' life that pig's back was wont to
tickle; and then too she had a very bad habit.
Of course these rides were not had in the sty, nor yet in the farm-yard,
but out along by the edge of the fen, and the enjoyment was nearly
perfect till it was brought to an end, always in the same way, as soon
as a nice convenient shallow pool was encountered, for here Lady
Winthorpe, as she was called, always lay down for a comfortable wallow,
when it was no use to wait for another ride, for the seat became too
wet.
Tallington's ram was splendid when he could be caught, which was not
often; but upon the rare occasions when he did fall captive to the boys'
prowess, he had rather a trying time, considering how big he was, and
how thin his legs. But his back was beautiful. The wool formed a
magnificent cushion, and a couple of locks could be grasped for security
by the rider, while the attendant, who waited his turn drove with a
branch of furze or heather.
A pole across a stone wall was another splendid aid to horsemanship,
see-saw fashion, or turned into a steed for one, by wedging the thick
end into a hole and riding the thin end, spring fashion; while, as the
years rolled by and the boys were back from school, an occasional mount
was had upon Saxon, Tallington's old grey horse, falsely said to be
nearly two hundred. But if he was not, he looked it.
Of course it was pleasant to be seated on high upon his back, but the
ride was not exhilarating, for whether he was bound for the ploughed
fields, or to harrow, or to fetch home a load, it seemed to make no
difference to Saxon, who always seemed to be examining the ground before
him with his big dull eyes before he lifted a foot to set it down in
advance. He was a cautious beast, and this may have arisen from his
having been often bogged. These rides were, then, not much sought
after, and when Solomon was placed at Dick's disposal he was voted by
far the best, and the donkey was not long in finding that his young
master had learned how to ride; as, with his long head he debated how he
might best rid himself of such incubi as Dick and his friend.
All this is explanatory of the reason why Tom Tallington did not slip
off at Solomon's first bout, but kept on when he came down by hooking
himself, as it were, with his leg and gripping a piece of the donkey's
skin with his hand.
By these means he regained his perpendicular, but only for a moment,
Solomon having at command a perfect battery of ruses for ridding himself
of a rider. No sooner was Tom upright than the donkey gave the whole of
his skin and muscles a wrench sidewise, which felt as if the seat was
being dragged away.
The consequence was that Tom nearly went off to the right. He was too
good an assman, though, and by a dexterous gymnastic feat he dragged
himself once more upright, when Solemn-un's back suddenly grew round and
began to treat Tom as if he were a ball. Now he was jerked up; now he
was jerked forward; now he was jerked back--bob--bob--bob--bob--till he
nearly went off over the tail. There was another bout of kicking, and
away went Tom again forward till he was a long way on toward the
donkey's neck, but only to shuffle himself back to the normal seat upon
the animal, after which, in token of defeat, Solomon went on out of
sight at a rapid canter, leaving Dick laughing till he had to wipe his
eyes.
"He will be so sore and so cross!" cried Dick, as he walked swiftly on;
when, involuntarily turning his head, he saw that the constable was
following him.
"The idiot!" cried the lad angrily. "Well, he shall have a run for it."
Setting his teeth and doubling his fists, he bent his head, and started
off running as hard as he could go, with the result that as he was going
somewhat after the fashion of a hare making use of his eyes to watch his
pursuer, and not looking ahead, he suddenly went round a curve, right
into Hickathrift's chest, and was caught and held by the big
wheelwright.
"Why, Mester Dick, what now?"
"Don't stop me, Hicky. I was running because that stupid constable
fellow is after me."
"Hey, and what should make you run away from constable, lad?" said
Hickathrift severely. "You've done nowt to be 'shamed on?"
"No, of course not!" cried Dick, shaking himself free. "Did you meet
Tom Tallington?"
"Ay, iver so far-off, trying to stop old Solomon, and he wouldn't stay."
Dick nodded and glanced at him; and then, as he ran on again, the lad
ground his teeth.
"It's a shame!" he cried. "Why, old Hicky thinks now that there's
something wrong. I'll serve that old stupid out for all this; see if I
don't!"
He ran on, getting very hot, and beginning now to abuse Tom Tallington
for going so far before he tied up; and at last saw the donkey browsing
by the side of a tree, while Tom was well on along the track to the
drain, walking as fast as he could go.
Solomon pointed one ear at Dick, as he came up, but took no further
notice, being engaged in picking nutriment out of some scraps of as
unlikely looking vegetation as could be found in the fen. Perhaps it
was the thistly food he ate which had an effect upon his temper and made
him the awkward creature he had grown.
"My turn now," cried Dick, unfastening the rein, which was tightly tied
with string to the stout stem of an alder.
Solomon had cocked one ear at his master as he came up. The animal now
laid both ears down and began to back so rapidly along the road, keeping
the reins at their full stretch, that it was impossible to mount him,
and it was evident that a long battle was beginning, in which the ass
might win.
Dick, however, found an ally in the shape of Grip, Hickathrift's
lurcher, who had been evidently off on some expedition upon his own
account, and was now hastening to overtake his master.
Solomon's attention was taken up by Dick, and he did not perceive Grip
coming up at full speed till, with a rush, the dog made a bound at him,
and sent him towards Dick, who was dragging at the reins.
Grip seemed to enjoy the donkey's astonishment as it backed from him and
then wheeled sharply round to deliver a goodly kick; but before this
could be planted satisfactorily, Dick had mounted and began tugging at
the reins and drumming with his heels in a way there was no resisting,
so Solomon went off at a gallop and Grip followed his master.
At the end of a mile Tom had been passed, and Dick drew up by the first
scrubby willow he reached, to tie up the donkey and leave it for his
friend; but a glance back showed him the constable returning toward the
Toft, so the boy stood leaning over Solomon's back, waiting.
"I don't want to ride," he said to himself. "Tom can have the donkey,
and I'll walk."
"Why didn't you go on?" cried Tom, as he came up with a very red face.
"Don't want to be alone," replied Dick lazily, as he gazed away over the
wide-stretching fen-land with the moist air quivering in the glorious
sunshine. "I say, Tom, what a shame it seems!"
"What seems a shame?"
"Corn-fields and pastures and orchards are all very well, but the old
fen does look so lovely now!"
"Yes, it does," said Tom; "and father's horribly sorry he joined in the
draining scheme. He says it's going to cost heaps of money, and then be
no good. But come along."
"Where?" said Dick.
"I don't know. Where we're going."
"We're not going anywhere, are we?"
"Well, you are a fellow! Come galloping off here into the fen, and then
say you don't know where we're going!"
"I did it to get away from that Thorpeley. What shall we do?"
"Pst! Look there! What's that?"
"Snake!"
"No; it's an adder. Look!"
"'Tisn't," said Dick; "it's a snake. Adders aren't so long as that.
No, no; don't throw at it. Let's see what it's going to do."
The reptile was crossing the track from a tuft of alders, and seemed to
be about three feet long and unusually thick, while, as it reached the
dense heath and rushes, interspersed with grey coral moss on that side,
it disappeared for a few moments, and they thought it had gone; but
directly after it reappeared, gliding over a rounded tuft of bog-moss,
and continued its way.
"Why, it's going to that pool!" cried Dick.
"To drink," said Tom. "No wonder. Oh, I am hot and thirsty! Here, I
could knock him over with a stone easily."
"Let him alone," said Dick, who had become interested in the snake's
movements. "How would you like to be knocked over with a stone?"
"I'm not a snake," said Tom, grinning.
"Look!" cried Dick, as the reptile reached the edge of one of the many
deep fen pools, whose amber-coloured water was so clear that the
vegetation at the bottom could be seen plainly, and, lit up by the
sunshine, seemed to be of a deep-golden hue across which every now and
then some armoured beetle or tiny fish darted.
To the surprise of both, instead of the snake beginning to drink, it
went right into the water, and, swimming easily and well, somewhat after
the fashion of an eel, sent the water rippling and gleaming toward the
sides.
"Look!" cried Tom. "Oh, what a bait for a pike!" For just then one of
these fishes about a foot long rose slowly from where it had lain
concealed at the side, and so clear was the water that they could make
out its every movement.
"Pooh! a pike could not swallow a snake," said Dick, as the reptile swam
on, and the pike slowly followed as if in doubt.
"Oh, yes, he could!" said Tom, "a bit at a time."
"Nonsense! Don't make a noise; let's watch. The snake's a yard long,
and the pike only a foot. I say, can't the snake swim!"
It could unmistakably, and as easily as if it were quite at home,
gliding along over the surface and sending the water rippling away in
rings, while the little pike followed its movements a few inches from
the top so quietly that the movements of its fins could hardly be made
out.
"Now he'll have him!" said Tom, as the snake reached the far side of the
pool, raised its head, darted out its tongue, and then turned and swam
back toward the middle, glistening in the sun and seeming to enjoy its
bath.
But Tom was wrong; the pike followed closely, evidently watching its
strange visitor, but making no effort to seize it, and at last, quite
out of patience, the lads made a dash forward.
The result was a swirl in the water, and the fish had gone to some
lurking-place among the water plants, while the snake made a dive, and
they traced its course right to the bottom, where it lay perfectly
still.
They sat down to wait till it came up, but after a time, during which
Tom had lamented sorely that he had not killed the snake, which seemed
comfortable enough in its prolonged dive, they both grew tired, and
returned to where Solomon stood making good use of his time and browsing
upon everything which seemed to him good to eat.
"Here, let's go and see how they're getting on with the drain," said
Dick.
"But we're always going to see how they're getting on with the drain,"
grumbled Tom.
"Never mind! Mr Marston may have had something else dug up."
"I don't want to see any more old boats; and as for that other thing--
Ugh!"
"Never mind! Come along! Perhaps they've found something else."
"Don't believe it. Are you going to ride?"
"No; you can ride," said Dick. "I'll walk."
The heat of the day seemed to make the boys silent as they walked and
rode in turn, gazing longingly the while over the spreading pools
glistening in the sunshine, with the dragon-flies glancing here and
there upon their gauzy wings which rustled and thrilled as they darted
and turned in their wonderful flight, chasing their unfortunate winged
prey. Every now and then a beautiful swallow-tail butterfly, plentiful
once in these regions, flitted by, inviting pursuit where pursuit was
impossible; while from the waving beds of giant grass which rose from
the water and now began to show their empurpled heads, came the
chattering of the reed-birds, as if in answer to the chirping of the
crickets in the crisp dark heath.
"Look at the bulrushes, Tom!" said Dick lazily. And he nodded in the
direction of a patch of the tall, brown, poker-like flowers and leaves
of the reed-mace.
"Oh, yes, look at them!" said Tom sourly. "What a shame it is that we
weren't born with wings! Everything grows where you can't get at it.
If there's a good nest, it's surrounded by water."
"Like an island," assented Dick.
"The best butterflies are where you can't get them without you go in a
boat."
"You can't catch butterflies out of a boat," said Dick contemptuously.
"You could, if you poled it along fast enough. Here, you jump on now.
What a hot back old Solomon has got!"
"I daresay he thinks you've got horribly hot legs," said Dick, laughing.
"Here, come along quick!"
"What for?"
"Can't you see!" cried Dick, starting off in the direction of where the
men were at work; "there's something the matter."
Certainly something did seem to be wrong, for the men were hurrying
along the black embankment of the great drain in the direction of the
sea; and as the boys reached the spot where the digging had been going
on, the explanation was plain.
The last time they were there, the men were at work in the bottom of the
oozy dike, where a little water lay, soaked out of the sides; but now,
right away to the flood-gates, there was a glistening lane of water, the
open ditch resembling a long canal in which a barge could have been
sailed.
"There isn't anything the matter," said Tom. "They've let the water in
to try how it goes."
But when at last they reached the sea end, it was to find Mr Marston
very busy with his men closing the great gates to keep out the tide,
which had risen high and threatened to flood a good deal of low-lying
ground. For probably by carelessness the sluice-gate down by the sea
had been left open, and the tide had come up and drowned the works.
The two lads stood looking on for some time, until the gates were
closed, and then, as the men sauntered away to their lodgings, Mr
Marston joined them.
"What did you fill the dike for, Mr Marston?" said Dick.
"Yes: wasn't it to try how it would go?"
"No," said the young engineer. "I did not want it filled. The gates
were left open."
"And what are you going to do now?"
"Wait till the tide's down, so that we can open them and let the water
run off."
"You can't do anything till then?"
"We could begin digging farther on," said Mr Marston; "but as the tide
will soon be going down I shall wait. It is a great nuisance, but I
suppose I must have some accidents."
The lads stayed with him all the afternoon, waiting till the tide had
turned, and getting a good insight at last into how the drain would act.
It was very simple, for as soon as the tide was low enough the water ran
rapidly from the drain; and that evening the gates were closed tightly
to keep out the next rise, the great dike being quite empty.
The engineer walked back with the boys, for there was no riding. They
had left Solomon tethered where he could get a good feed of grass and
tender shoots; but upon reaching the spot when they were ready to return
there was the tethering line gnawed completely through, and the donkey
was out of sight.
"Not taken away?" said Mr Marston.
"No: he has gone home," said Dick. "That rope wasn't thick enough to
hold him. I thought he would get away."
"Then why not have asked me for a thicker rope, Dick?"
"What's the good! If I had tied him there with a thicker rope, he'd
have bitten through the bridle. He wanted to go back home, and when he
does, he will go somehow."
"He seems a wonderful beast," said Mr Marston, smiling.
"I don't know about being wonderful. He's a rum one, and as cunning as
a fox. Why, he'll unfasten any gate to get into a field, and he'll get
out too. He unhooks the doors and lifts the gates off the hinges, and
one day he was shut up in the big barn, and what do you think he did?"
"I know," said Tom; "jumped out of the window."
"Yes, that he did," said Dick. "He climbed up the straw till he got to
the window, and then squeezed himself through."
That evening, after tea, the squire was seated in the orchard where the
stone table had been built up under the big gnarled apple-tree, and the
engineer was talking to him earnestly as Dick came up from going part of
the way home with his companion.
"Shall I go away, father?" asked the lad, as he saw how serious his
father looked.
"No, my boy, no. You are getting old enough now to think seriously; and
this draining business will be more for you than for myself--better for
your children than for you. Mr Marston has some more ugly news about
the work."
"Ugly news, father?"
"Yes, Dick," said Mr Marston; "that was no accident this afternoon, but
a wilful attempt made by some miserably prejudiced person to destroy our
work."
"But it did no harm, Mr Marston."
"No, my boy; but the ignorant person who thrust open that gate hoped it
would. If it had been a high-tide and a storm, instead of stopping our
work for a few hours he might have stopped it for a few weeks."
"And who do you think it was?" asked Dick.
"Someone who hates the idea of the drain being made. I have seen the
constable, Mr Winthorpe," continued Marston. |
