CHAPTER XV
NARRATIVE OF ALAN FAIRFORD, CONTINUED
Alan Fairford's spirit was more ready to encounter labour than his framewas adequate to support it. In spite of his exertions, when he awoke,after five or six hours' slumber, he found that he was so much disabledby dizziness in his head and pains in his limbs, that he could not raisehimself without assistance. He heard with some pleasure that they werenow running right for the Wampool river, and that he would be put onshore in a very short time. The vessel accordingly lay to, and presentlyshowed a weft in her ensign, which was hastily answered by signals fromon shore. Men and horses were seen to come down the broken path whichleads to the shore; the latter all properly tackled for carrying theirloading. Twenty fishing barks were pushed afloat at once, and crowdedround the brig with much clamour, laughter, cursing, and jesting. Amidstall this apparent confusion there was the essential regularity. NantyEwart again walked his quarter-deck as if he had never tasted spiritsin his life, issued the necessary orders with precision, and saw themexecuted with punctuality. In half an hour the loading of the brig wasin a great measure disposed in the boats; in a quarter of an hour more,it was landed on the beach, and another interval of about the sameduration was sufficient to distribute it on the various strings ofpackhorses which waited for that purpose, and which instantly dispersed,each on its own proper adventure. More mystery was observed in loadingthe ship's boat with a quantity of small barrels, which seemed tocontain ammunition. This was not done until the commercial customershad been dismissed; and it was not until this was performed that Ewartproposed to Alan, as he lay stunned with pain and noise, to accompanyhim ashore.
It was with difficulty that Fairford could get over the side of thevessel, and he could not seat himself on the stern of the boat withoutassistance from the captain and his people. Nanty Ewart, who saw nothingin this worse than an ordinary fit of sea-sickness, applied the usualtopics of consolation. He assured his passenger that he would be quitewell by and by, when he had been half an hour on terra firma, andthat he hoped to drink a can and smoke a pipe with him at FatherCrackenthorp's, for all that he felt a little out of the way for ridingthe wooden horse.
'Who is Father Crackenthorp?' said Fairford, though scarcely able toarticulate the question.
'As honest a fellow as is of a thousand,' answered Nanty.
'Ah, how much good brandy he and I have made little of in our day! By mysoul, Mr. Fairbird, he is the prince of skinkers, and the father ofthe free trade--not a stingy hypocritical devil like old TurnpennySkinflint, that drinks drunk on other folk's cost, and thinks it sinwhen he has to pay for it--but a real hearty old cock;--the sharks havebeen at and about him this many a day, but Father Crackenthorp knows howto trim his sails--never a warrant but he hears of it before the ink'sdry. He is BONUS SOCIUS with headborough and constable. The king'sexchequer could not bribe a man to inform against him. If any suchrascal were to cast up, why, he would miss his ears next morning, orbe sent to seek them in the Solway. He is a statesman, [A small landedproprietor.] though he keeps a public; but, indeed, that is only forconvenience and to excuse his having cellarage and folk about him; hiswife's a canny woman--and his daughter Doll too. Gad, you'll be in portthere till you get round again; and I'll keep my word with you, andbring you to speech of the laird.
Gad, the only trouble I shall have is to get you out of the house;for Doll is a rare wench, and my dame a funny old one, and FatherCrackenthorp the rarest companion! He'll drink you a bottle of rum orbrandy without starting, but never wet his lips with the nasty Scottishstuff that the canting old scoundrel Turnpenny has brought into fashion.He is a gentleman, every inch of him, old Crackenthorp; in his own way,that is; and besides, he has a share in the JUMPING JENNY, and many amoonlight outfit besides. He can give Doll a pretty penny, if he likesthe tight fellow that would turn in with her for life.'
In the midst of this prolonged panegyric on Father Crackenthorp, theboat touched the beach, the rowers backed their oars to keep her afloat,whilst the other fellows lumped into the surf, and, with the most rapiddexterity, began to hand the barrels ashore.
'Up with them higher on the beach, my hearties,' exclaimed NantyEwart--'High and dry--high and dry--this gear will not stand wetting.Now, out with our spare hand here--high and dry with him too.What's that?--the galloping of horse! Oh, I hear the jingle of thepacksaddles--they are our own folk.'
By this time all the boat's load was ashore, consisting of the littlebarrels; and the boat's crew, standing to their arms, ranged themselvesin front, waiting the advance of the horses which came clattering alongthe beach. A man, overgrown with corpulence, who might be distinguishedin the moonlight panting with his own exertions, appeared at the headof the cavalcade, which consisted of horses linked together, andaccommodated with packsaddles, and chains for securing the kegs whichmade a dreadful clattering.
'How now, Father Crackenthorp?' said Ewart--'Why this hurry with yourhorses? We mean to stay a night with you, and taste your old brandy, andmy dame's homebrewed. The signal is up, man, and all is right.'
'All is wrong, Captain Nanty,' cried the man to whom he spoke; 'and youare the lad that is like to find it so, unless you bundle off--there arenew brooms bought at Carlisle yesterday to sweep the country of you andthe like of you--so you were better be jogging inland.
'How many rogues are the officers? If not more than ten, I will makefight.'
'The devil you will!' answered Crackenthorp. 'You were better not, forthey have the bloody-backed dragoons from Carlisle with them.'
'Nay, then,' said Nanty, 'we must make sail. Come, Master Fairlord,you must mount and ride. He does not hear me--he has fainted, Ibelieve--What the devil shall I do? Father Crackenthorp, I must leavethis young fellow with you till the gale blows out--hark ye--goesbetween the laird and the t'other old one; he can neither ride norwalk--I must send him up to you.'
'Send him up to the gallows!' said Crackenthorp; 'there is QuartermasterThwacker, with twenty men, up yonder; an he had not some kindness forDoll, I had never got hither for a start--but you must get off, or theywill be here to seek us, for his orders are woundy particular; and thesekegs contain worse than whisky--a hanging matter, I take it.'
'I wish they were at the bottom of Wampool river, with them they belongto,' said Nanty Ewart. 'But they are part of cargo; and what to do withthe poor young fellow--'
'Why, many a better fellow has roughed it on the grass with a cloak o'erhim,' said Crackenthorp. 'If he hath a fever, nothing is so cooling asthe night air.'
'Yes, he would be cold enough in the morning, no doubt; but it's a kindheart and shall not cool so soon if I can help it,' answered the captainof the JUMPING JENNY.
'Well, captain, an ye will risk your own neck for another man's, why nottake him to the old girls at Fairladies?'
'What, the Miss Arthurets! The Papist jades! But never mind; it willdo--I have known them take in a whole sloop's crew that were stranded onthe sands.'
'You may run some risk, though, by turning up to Fairladies; for I tellyou they are all up through the country.'
'Never mind--I may chance to put some of them down again,' said Nanty,cheerfully. 'Come, lads, bustle to your tackle. Are you all loaded?'
'Aye, aye, captain; we will be ready in a jiffy,' answered the gang.
'D--n your captains! Have you a mind to have me hanged if I am taken?All's hail-fellow, here.'
'A sup at parting,' said Father Crackenthorp, extending a flask to NantyEwart.
'Not the twentieth part of a drop,' said Nanty. 'No Dutch courage forme--my heart is always high enough when there's a chance of fighting;besides, if I live drunk, I should like to die sober. Here, oldJephson--you are the best-natured brute amongst them--get the ladbetween us on a quiet horse, and we will keep him upright, I warrant.'
As they raised Fairford from the ground, he groaned heavily, and askedfaintly where they were taking him to.
'To a place where you will be as snug and quiet as a mouse in his hole,'said Nanty
, 'if so be that we can get you there safely. Good-bye, FatherCrackenthorp--poison the quartermaster, if you can.'
The loaded horses then sprang forward at a hard trot, following eachother in a line, and every second horse being mounted by a stout fellowin a smock frock, which served to conceal the arms with which most ofthese desperate men were provided. Ewart followed in the rear of theline, and, with the occasional assistance of old Jephson, kept his youngcharge erect in the saddle. He groaned heavily from time to time; andEwart, more moved with compassion for his situation than might have beenexpected from his own habits, endeavoured to amuse him and comfort him,by some account of the place to which they were conveying him--his wordsof consolation being, however, frequently interrupted by the necessityof calling to his people, and many of them being lost amongst therattling of the barrels, and clinking of the tackle and small chains bywhich they are secured on such occasions.
'And you see, brother, you will be in safe quarters at Fairladies--goodold scrambling house--good old maids enough, if they were notPapists,--Hollo, you Jack Lowther; keep the line, can't ye, and shutyour rattle-trap, you broth of a--? And so, being of a good family, andhaving enough, the old lasses have turned a kind of saints, and nuns,and so forth. The place they live in was some sort of nun-shop long ago,as they have them still in Flanders; so folk call them the Vestals ofFairladies--that may be, or may not be; and I care not whether it be orno.--Blinkinsop, hold your tongue, and be d--d!--And so, betwixt greatalms and good dinners, they are well thought of by rich and poor, andtheir trucking with Papists is looked over. There are plenty of priests,and stout young scholars, and such-like, about the house it's a hive ofthem. More shame that government send dragoons out after-a few honestfellows that bring the old women of England a drop of brandy, and letthese ragamuffins smuggle in as much papistry and--Hark!--was thata whistle? No, it's only a plover. You, Jem Collier, keep a look-outahead--we'll meet them at the High Whins, or Brotthole bottom, ornowhere. Go a furlong ahead, I say, and look sharp.--These MissesArthurets feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, and such-likeacts--which my poor father used to say were filthy rags, but he dressedhimself out with as many of them as most folk.--D--n that stumblinghorse! Father Crackenthorp should be d--d himself for putting an honestfellow's neck in such jeopardy.'
Thus, and with much more to the same purpose, Nanty ran on, increasing,by his well-intended annoyance, the agony of Alan Fairford, who,tormented by a racking pain along the back and loins, which made therough trot of the horse torture to him, had his aching head stillfurther rended and split by the hoarse voice of the sailor, close tohis ear. Perfectly passive, however, he did not even essay to giveany answer; and indeed his own bodily distress was now so great andengrossing, that to think of his situation was impossible, even if hecould have mended it by doing so.
Their course was inland; but in what direction, Alan had no means ofascertaining. They passed at first over heaths and sandy downs; theycrossed more than one brook, or beck, as they are called in thatcountry--some of them of considerable depth--and at length reacheda cultivated country, divided, according to the English fashion ofagriculture, into very small fields or closes, by high banks, overgrownwith underwood, and surmounted by hedge-row trees, amongst which windeda number of impracticable and complicated lanes, where the boughsprojecting from the embankments on each side, intercepted the light ofthe moon, and endangered the safety of the horsemen. But through thislabyrinth the experience of the guides conducted them without a blunder,and without even the slackening of their pace. In many places, however,it was impossible for three men to ride abreast; and therefore theburden of supporting Alan Fairford fell alternately to old Jephsonand to Nanty; and it was with much difficulty that they could keep himupright in his saddle.
At length, when his powers of sufferance were quite worn out, and he wasabout to implore them to leave him to his fate in the first cottage orshed--or under a haystack or a hedge--or anywhere, so he was left atease, Collier, who rode ahead, passed back the word that they were atthe avenue to Fairladies--'Was he to turn up?'
Committing the charge of Fairford to Jephson, Nanty dashed up to thehead of the troop, and gave his orders.--'Who knows the house best?'
'Sam Skelton's a Catholic,' said Lowther.
'A d--d bad religion,' said Nanty, of whose Presbyterian education ahatred of Popery seemed to be the only remnant. 'But I am glad there isone amongst us, anyhow. You, Sam, being a Papist, know Fairladies andthe old maidens I dare say; so do you fall out of the line, and waithere with me; and do you, Collier, carry on to Walinford bottom, thenturn down the beck till you come to the old mill, and Goodman Grist theMiller, or old Peel-the-Causeway, will tell you where to stow; but Iwill be up with you before that.'
The string of loaded horses then struck forward at their former pace,while Nanty, with Sam Skelton, waited by the roadside till the rear cameup, when Jephson and Fairford joined them, and, to the great reliefof the latter, they began to proceed at an easier pace than formerly,suffering the gang to precede them, till the clatter and clang attendingtheir progress began to die away in the distance. They had not proceededa pistol-shot from the place where they parted, when a short turningbrought them in front of an old mouldering gateway, whose heavypinnacles were decorated in the style of the seventeenth century, withclumsy architectural ornaments; several of which had fallen down fromdecay, and lay scattered about, no further care having been taken thanjust to remove them out of the direct approach to the avenue. The greatstone pillars, glimmering white in the moonlight, had some fancifulresemblance to supernatural apparitions, and the air of neglect allaround, gave an uncomfortable idea of the habitation to those who passedits avenue.
'There used to be no gate here,' said Skelton, finding their wayunexpectedly stopped.
'But there is a gate now, and a porter too,' said a rough voice fromwithin. 'Who be you, and what do you want at this time of night?'
'We want to come to speech of the ladies--of the Misses Arthuret,' saidNanty; 'and to ask lodging for a sick man.'
'There is no speech to be had of the Miss Arthurets at this time ofnight, and you may carry your sick man to the doctor,' answered thefellow from within, gruffly; 'for as sure as there is savour in salt,and scent in rosemary, you will get no entrance--put your pipes up andbe jogging on.'
'Why, Dick Gardener,' said Skelton, 'be thou then turned porter?'
'What, do you know who I am?' said the domestic sharply.
'I know you, by your by-word,' answered the other; 'What, have youforgot little Sam Skelton, and the brock in the barrel?'
'No, I have not forgotten you,' answered the acquaintance of SamSkelton; 'but my orders are peremptory to let no one up the avenue thisnight, and therefore'--
'But we are armed, and will not be kept back,' said Nanty. 'Hark ye,fellow, were it not better for you to take a guinea and let us in, thanto have us break the door first, and thy pate afterwards? for I won'tsee my comrade die at your door be assured of that.'
'Why, I dunna know,' said the fellow; 'but what cattle were those thatrode by in such hurry?'
'Why, some of our folk from Bowness, Stoniecultrum, and thereby,'answered Skelton; 'Jack Lowther, and old Jephson, and broad WillLamplugh, and such like.'
'Well,' said Dick Gardener, 'as sure as there is savour in salt, andscent in rosemary, I thought it had been the troopers from Carlisle andWigton, and the sound brought my heart to my mouth.'
'Had thought thou wouldst have known the clatter of a cask from theclash of a broadsword, as well as e'er a quaffer in Cumberland,' saidSkelton.
'Come, brother, less of your jaw and more of your legs, if you please,'said Nanty; 'every moment we stay is a moment lost. Go to the ladies,and tell them that Nanty Ewart, of the JUMPING JENNY, has broughta young gentleman, charged with letters from Scotland to a certaingentleman of consequence in Cumberland--that the soldiers are out, andthe gentleman is very ill and if he is not received at Fairladies hemust be left either to die at the gate, or to be tak
en, with all hispapers about him, by the redcoats.'
Away ran Dick Gardener with this message; and, in a few minutes, lightswere seen to flit about, which convinced Fairford, who was now, inconsequence of the halt, a little restored to self-possession, that theywere traversing the front of a tolerably large mansion-house.
'What if thy friend, Dick Gardener, comes not back again?' said Jephsonto Skelton.
'Why, then,' said the person addressed, 'I shall owe him just such alicking as thou, old Jephson, had from Dan Cooke, and will pay as dulyand truly as he did.'
The old man was about to make an angry reply, when his doubts weresilenced by the return of Dick Gardener, who announced that MissArthuret was coming herself as far as the gateway to speak with them.
Nanty Ewart cursed in a low tone the suspicions of old maids and thechurlish scruples of Catholics, that made so many obstacles to helpinga fellow creature, and wished Miss Arthuret a hearty rheumatism ortoothache as the reward of her excursion; but the lady presentlyappeared, to cut short further grumbling. She was attended by awaiting-maid with a lantern, by means of which she examined the partyon the outside, as closely as the imperfect light, and the spars of thenewly-erected gate, would permit.
'I am sorry we have disturbed you so late, Madam Arthuret,' said Nanty;'but the case is this'--
'Holy Virgin,' said she, 'why do you speak so loud? Pray, are you notthe captain of the SAINTE GENEVIEVE?'
'Why, aye, ma'am,' answered Ewart, 'they call the brig so at Dunkirk,sure enough; but along shore here, they call her the JUMPING JENNY.'
'You brought over the holy Father Buonaventure, did you not?'
'Aye, aye, madam, I have brought over enough of them black cattle,'answered Nanty. 'Fie! fie! friend,' said Miss Arthuret; 'it is a pitythat the saints should commit these good men to a heretic's care.'
'Why, no more they would, ma'am,' answered Nanty, 'could they find aPapist lubber that knew the coast as I do; then I am trusty as steelto owners, and always look after cargo--live lumber, or dead flesh,or spirits, all is one to me; and your Catholics have such d--d largehoods, with pardon, ma'am, that they can sometimes hide two faces underthem. But here is a gentleman dying, with letters about him from theLaird of Summertrees to the Laird of the Lochs, as they call him, alongSolway, and every minute he lies here is a nail in his coffin.'
'Saint Mary! what shall we do?' said Miss Arthuret; 'we must admit him,I think, at all risks. You, Richard Gardener, help one of these men tocarry the gentleman up to the Place; and you, Selby, see him lodged atthe end of the long gallery. You are a heretic, captain, but I think youare trusty, and I know you have been trusted--but if you are imposing onme'--
'Not I, madam--never attempt to impose on ladies of your experience--mypractice that way has been all among the young ones. Come, cheerly, Mr.Fairford--you will be taken good care of--try to walk.'
Alan did so; and, refreshed by his halt, declared himself able to walkto the house with the sole assistance of the gardener.
'Why, that's hearty. Thank thee, Dick, for lending him thine arm'--andNanty slipped into his hand the guinea he had promised.--'Farewell,then, Mr. Fairford, and farewell, Madam Arthuret, for I have been toolong here.'
So saying, he and his two companions threw themselves on horseback, andwent off at a gallop. Yet, even above the clatter of their hoofs did theincorrigible Nanty hollo out the old ballad--
A lovely lass to a friar came, To confession a-morning early;-- 'In what, my dear, are you to blame? Come tell me most sincerely?' 'Alas! my fault I dare not name-- But my lad he loved me dearly.'
'Holy Virgin!' exclaimed Miss Seraphina, as the unhallowed soundsreached her ears; 'what profane heathens be these men, and what frightsand pinches we be put to among them! The saints be good to us, what anight has this been!--the like never seen at Fairladies. Help me to makefast the gate, Richard, and thou shalt come down again to wait on it,lest there come more unwelcome visitors--Not that you are unwelcome,young gentleman, for it is sufficient that you need such assistance aswe can give you, to make you welcome to Fairladies--only, another timewould have done as well--but, hem! I dare say it is all for the best.The avenue is none of the smoothest, sir, look to your feet. RichardGardener should have had it mown and levelled, but he was obliged to goon a pilgrimage to Saint Winifred's Well, in Wales.' (Here Dick gavea short dry cough, which, as if he had found it betrayed some internalfeeling a little at variance with what the lady said, he converted intoa muttered SANCTA WINIFREDA, ORA PRO NOBIS. Miss Arthuret, meantime,proceeded) 'We never interfere with our servants' vows or penances,Master Fairford--I know a very worthy father of your name, perhaps arelation--I say, we never interfere with our servants vows. Our Ladyforbid they should not know some difference between our service and aheretic's.--Take care, sir, you will fall if you have not a care. Alas!by night and day there are many stumbling-blocks in our paths!'
With more talk to the same purpose, all of which tended to show acharitable and somewhat silly woman with a strong inclination to hersuperstitious devotion, Miss Arthuret entertained her new guest, as,stumbling at every obstacle which the devotion of his guide, Richard,had left in the path, he at last, by ascending some stone stepsdecorated on the side with griffins, or some such heraldic anomalies,attained a terrace extending in front of the Place of Fairladies; anold-fashioned gentleman's house of some consequence, with its range ofnotched gable-ends and narrow windows, relieved by here and there an oldturret about the size of a pepper-box. The door was locked during thebrief absence of the mistress; a dim light glimmered through the sasheddoor of the hall, which opened beneath a huge stone porch, loaded withjessamine and other creepers. All the windows were dark as pitch.
Miss Arthuret tapped at the door. 'Sister, sister Angelica.' 'Who isthere?' was answered from within; 'is it you, sister Seraphina?'
'Yes, yes, undo the door; do you not know my voice?'
'No doubt, sister,' said Angelica, undoing bolt and bar; 'but you knowour charge, and the enemy is watchful to surprise us--INCEDIT SICUT LEOVORANS, saith the breviary. Whom have you brought here? Oh, sister, whathave you done?'
'It is a young man,' said Seraphina, hastening to interrupt her sister'sremonstrance, 'a relation, I believe, of our worthy Father Fairford;left at the gate by the captain of that blessed vessel the SAINTEGENEVIEVE--almost dead--and charged with dispatches to '--
She lowered her voice as she mumbled over the last words.
'Nay, then, there is no help,' said Angelica; 'but it is unlucky.'
During this dialogue between the vestals of Fairladies, Dick Gardenerdeposited his burden in a chair, where the young lady, after a momentof hesitation, expressing a becoming reluctance to touch the hand of astranger, put her finger and thumb upon Fairford's wrist, and countedhis pulse.
'There is fever here, sister,' she said; 'Richard must call Ambrose, andwe must send some of the febrifuge.'
Ambrose arrived presently, a plausible and respectable-looking oldservant, bred in the family, and who had risen from rank to rank inthe Arthuret service till he was become half-physician, half-almoner,half-butler, and entire governor; that is, when the Father Confessor,who frequently eased him of the toils of government, chanced to beabroad. Under the direction, and with the assistance of this venerablepersonage, the unlucky Alan Fairford was conveyed to a decent apartmentat the end of a long gallery, and, to his inexpressible relief,consigned to a comfortable bed. He did not attempt to resist theprescription of Mr. Ambrose, who not only presented him with theproposed draught, but proceeded so far as to take a considerablequantity of blood from him, by which last operation he probably did hispatient much service.