XXVI. THE ALARM
The night which followed was historic and memorable. Mrs. Loveday wasawakened by the boom of a distant gun: she told the miller, and theylistened awhile. The sound was not repeated, but such was the state oftheir feelings that Mr. Loveday went to Bob's room and asked if he hadheard it. Bob was wide awake, looking out of the window; he had heardthe ominous sound, and was inclined to investigate the matter. While thefather and son were dressing they fancied that a glare seemed to berising in the sky in the direction of the beacon hill. Not wishing toalarm Anne and her mother, the miller assured them that Bob and himselfwere merely going out of doors to inquire into the cause of the report,after which they plunged into the gloom together. A few steps' progressopened up more of the sky, which, as they had thought, was indeedirradiated by a lurid light; but whether it came from the beacon or froma more distant point they were unable to clearly tell. They pushed onrapidly towards higher ground.
Their excitement was merely of a piece with that of all men at thiscritical juncture. Everywhere expectation was at fever heat. For thelast year or two only five-and-twenty miles of shallow water had dividedquiet English homesteads from an enemy's army of a hundred and fiftythousand men. We had taken the matter lightly enough, eating anddrinking as in the days of Noe, and singing satires without end. Wepunned on Buonaparte and his gunboats, chalked his effigy onstage-coaches, and published the same in prints. Still, between thesebursts of hilarity, it was sometimes recollected that England was theonly European country which had not succumbed to the mighty little manwho was less than human in feeling, and more than human in will; that ourspirit for resistance was greater than our strength; and that the Channelwas often calm. Boats built of wood which was greenly growing in itsnative forest three days before it was bent as wales to their sides, wereridiculous enough; but they might be, after all, sufficient for a singletrip between two visible shores.
The English watched Buonaparte in these preparations, and Buonapartewatched the English. At the distance of Boulogne details were lost, butwe were impressed on fine days by the novel sight of a huge army movingand twinkling like a school of mackerel under the rays of the sun. Theregular way of passing an afternoon in the coast towns was to stroll upto the signal posts and chat with the lieutenant on duty there about thelatest inimical object seen at sea. About once a week there appeared inthe newspapers either a paragraph concerning some adventurous Englishgentleman who had sailed out in a pleasure-boat till he lay near enoughto Boulogne to see Buonaparte standing on the heights among his marshals;or else some lines about a mysterious stranger with a foreign accent,who, after collecting a vast deal of information on our resources, hadhired a boat at a southern port, and vanished with it towards Francebefore his intention could be divined.
In forecasting his grand venture, Buonaparte postulated the help ofProvidence to a remarkable degree. Just at the hour when his troops wereon board the flat-bottomed boats and ready to sail, there was to be agreat fog, that should spread a vast obscurity over the length andbreadth of the Channel, and keep the English blind to events on the otherside. The fog was to last twenty-four hours, after which it might clearaway. A dead calm was to prevail simultaneously with the fog, with thetwofold object of affording the boats easy transit and dooming our shipsto lie motionless. Thirdly, there was to be a spring tide, which shouldcombine its manoeuvres with those of the fog and calm.
Among the many thousands of minor Englishmen whose lives were affected bythese tremendous designs may be numbered our old acquaintance CorporalTullidge, who sported the crushed arm, and poor old Simon Burden, thedazed veteran who had fought at Minden. Instead of sitting snugly in thesettle of the Old Ship, in the village adjoining Overcombe, they wereobliged to keep watch on the hill. They made themselves as comfortableas was possible in the circumstances, dwelling in a hut of clods andturf, with a brick chimney for cooking. Here they observed the nightlyprogress of the moon and stars, grew familiar with the heaving of moles,the dancing of rabbits on the hillocks, the distant hoot of owls, thebark of foxes from woods further inland; but saw not a sign of the enemy.As, night after night, they walked round the two ricks which it was theirduty to fire at a signal--one being of furze for a quick flame, the otherof turf, for a long, slow radiance--they thought and talked of old times,and drank patriotically from a large wood flagon that was filled everyday.
Bob and his father soon became aware that the light was from the beacon.By the time that they reached the top it was one mass of towering flame,from which the sparks fell on the green herbage like a fiery dew; theforms of the two old men being seen passing and repassing in the midst ofit. The Lovedays, who came up on the smoky side, regarded the scene fora moment, and then emerged into the light.
'Who goes there?' said Corporal Tullidge, shouldering a pike with hissound arm. 'O, 'tis neighbour Loveday!'
'Did you get your signal to fire it from the east?' said the millerhastily.
'No; from Abbotsea Beach.'
'But you are not to go by a coast signal!'
'Chok' it all, wasn't the Lord-Lieutenant's direction, whenever you seeRainbarrow's Beacon burn to the nor'east'ard, or Haggardon to thenor'west'ard, or the actual presence of the enemy on the shore?'
'But is he here?'
'No doubt o't! The beach light is only just gone down, and Simon heardthe guns even better than I.'
'Hark, hark! I hear 'em!' said Bob.
They listened with parted lips, the night wind blowing through SimonBurden's few teeth as through the ruins of Stonehenge. From far down onthe lower levels came the noise of wheels and the tramp of horses uponthe turnpike road.
'Well, there must be something in it,' said Miller Loveday gravely. 'Bob,we'll go home and make the women-folk safe, and then I'll don mysoldier's clothes and be off. God knows where our company willassemble!'
They hastened down the hill, and on getting into the road waited andlistened again. Travellers began to come up and pass them in vehicles ofall descriptions. It was difficult to attract their attention in the dimlight, but by standing on the top of a wall which fenced the road Bob wasat last seen.
'What's the matter?' he cried to a butcher who was flying past in hiscart, his wife sitting behind him without a bonnet.
'The French have landed!' said the man, without drawing rein.
'Where?' shouted Bob.
'In West Bay; and all Budmouth is in uproar!' replied the voice, nowfaint in the distance.
Bob and his father hastened on till they reached their own house. Asthey had expected, Anne and her mother, in common with most of thepeople, were both dressed, and stood at the door bonneted and shawled,listening to the traffic on the neighbouring highway, Mrs. Loveday havingsecured what money and small valuables they possessed in a huge pocketwhich extended all round her waist, and added considerably to her weightand diameter.
''Tis true enough,' said the miller: 'he's come! You and Anne and themaid must be off to Cousin Jim's at King's-Bere, and when you get thereyou must do as they do. I must assemble with the company.'
'And I?' said Bob.
'Thou'st better run to the church, and take a pike before they be allgone.'
The horse was put into the gig, and Mrs. Loveday, Anne, and the servant-maid were hastily packed into the vehicle, the latter taking the reins;David's duties as a fighting-man forbidding all thought of his domesticoffices now. Then the silver tankard, teapot, pair of candlesticks likeIonic columns, and other articles too large to be pocketed were throwninto a basket and put up behind. Then came the leave-taking, which wasas sad as it was hurried. Bob kissed Anne, and there was no affectationin her receiving that mark of affection as she said through her tears,'God bless you!' At last they moved off in the dim light of dawn,neither of the three women knowing which road they were to take, buttrusting to chance to find it.
As soon as they were out of sight Bob went off for a pike, and hisfather, first new-flinting his firelock, proceeded to don his unifo
rm,pipe-claying his breeches with such cursory haste as to bespatter hisblack gaiters with the same ornamental compound. Finding when he wasready that no bugle had as yet sounded, he went with David to the cart-house, dragged out the waggon, and put therein some of the most usefuland easily-handled goods, in case there might be an opportunity forconveying them away. By the time this was done and the waggon pushedback and locked in, Bob had returned with his weapon, somewhat mortifiedat being doomed to this low form of defence. The miller gave his son aparting grasp of the hand, and arranged to meet him at King's-Bere at thefirst opportunity if the news were true; if happily false, here at theirown house.
'Bother it all!' he exclaimed, looking at his stock of flints.
'What?' said Bob.
'I've got no ammunition: not a blessed round!'
'Then what's the use of going?' asked his son.
The miller paused. 'O, I'll go,' he said. 'Perhaps somebody will lendme a little if I get into a hot corner?'
'Lend ye a little! Father, you was always so simple!' said Bobreproachfully.
'Well--I can bagnet a few, anyhow,' said the miller.
The bugle had been blown ere this, and Loveday the father disappearedtowards the place of assembly, his empty cartridge-box behind him. Bobseized a brace of loaded pistols which he had brought home from the ship,and, armed with these and a pike, he locked the door and sallied outagain towards the turnpike road.
By this time the yeomanry of the district were also on the move, andamong them Festus Derriman, who was sleeping at his uncle's, and had beenawakened by Cripplestraw. About the time when Bob and his father weredescending from the beacon the stalwart yeoman was standing in the stable-yard adjusting his straps, while Cripplestraw saddled the horse. Festusclanked up and down, looked gloomily at the beacon, heard the retreatingcarts and carriages, and called Cripplestraw to him, who came from thestable leading the horse at the same moment that Uncle Benjy peepedunobserved from a mullioned window above their heads, the distant lightof the beacon fire touching up his features to the complexion of an oldbrass clock-face.
'I think that before I start, Cripplestraw,' said Festus, whose luridvisage was undergoing a bleaching process curious to look upon, 'youshall go on to Budmouth, and make a bold inquiry whether the cowardlyenemy is on shore as yet, or only looming in the bay.'
'I'd go in a moment, sir,' said the other, 'if I hadn't my bad leg again.I should have joined my company afore this; but they said at last drillthat I was too old. So I shall wait up in the hay-loft for tidings assoon as I have packed you off, poor gentleman!'
'Do such alarms as these, Cripplestraw, ever happen without foundation?Buonaparte is a wretch, a miserable wretch, and this may be only a falsealarm to disappoint such as me?'
'O no, sir; O no!'
'But sometimes there are false alarms?'
'Well, sir, yes. There was a pretended sally o' gunboats last year.'
'And was there nothing else pretended--something more like this, forinstance?'
Cripplestraw shook his head. 'I notice yer modesty, Mr. Festus, inmaking light of things. But there never was, sir. You may depend uponit he's come. Thank God, my duty as a Local don't require me to go tothe front, but only the valiant men like my master. Ah, if Boney couldonly see 'ee now, sir, he'd know too well there is nothing to be got fromsuch a determined skilful officer but blows and musket-balls!'
'Yes, yes. Cripplestraw, if I ride off to Budmouth and meet 'em, all mytraining will be lost. No skill is required as a forlorn hope.'
'True; that's a point, sir. You would outshine 'em all, and be pickedoff at the very beginning as a too-dangerous brave man.'
'But if I stay here and urge on the faint-hearted ones, or get up intothe turret-stair by that gateway, and pop at the invaders through theloophole, I shouldn't be so completely wasted, should I?'
'You would not, Mr. Derriman. But, as you was going to say next, thefire in yer veins won't let ye do that. You are valiant; very good: youdon't want to husband yer valiance at home. The arg'ment is plain.'
'If my birth had been more obscure,' murmured the yeoman, 'and I had onlybeen in the militia, for instance, or among the humble pikemen, so muchwouldn't have been expected of me--of my fiery nature. Cripplestraw, isthere a drop of brandy to be got at in the house? I don't feel verywell.'
'Dear nephew,' said the old gentleman from above, whom neither of theothers had as yet noticed, 'I haven't any spirits opened--so unfortunate!But there's a beautiful barrel of crab-apple cider in draught; andthere's some cold tea from last night.'
'What, is he listening?' said Festus, staring up. 'Now I warrant howglad he is to see me forced to go--called out of bed without breakfast,and he quite safe, and sure to escape because he's an oldman!--Cripplestraw, I like being in the yeomanry cavalry; but I wish Ihadn't been in the ranks; I wish I had been only the surgeon, to stay inthe rear while the bodies are brought back to him--I mean, I should havethrown my heart at such a time as this more into the labour of restoringwounded men and joining their shattered limbs together--u-u-ugh!--morethan I can into causing the wounds--I am too humane, Cripplestraw, forthe ranks!'
'Yes, yes,' said his companion, depressing his spirits to a kindredlevel. 'And yet, such is fate, that, instead of joining men's limbstogether, you'll have to get your own joined--poor young sojer!--allthrough having such a warlike soul.'
'Yes,' murmured Festus, and paused. 'You can't think how strange I feelhere, Cripplestraw,' he continued, laying his hand upon the centrebuttons of his waistcoat. 'How I do wish I was only the surgeon!'
He slowly mounted, and Uncle Benjy, in the meantime, sang to himself ashe looked on, '_Twen-ty-three and half from N.W._ _Six-teen and three-quar-ters from N.E._'
'What's that old mummy singing?' said Festus savagely.
'Only a hymn for preservation from our enemies, dear nephew,' meeklyreplied the farmer, who had heard the remark. '_Twen-ty-three and halffrom N.W_.'
Festus allowed his horse to move on a few paces, and then turned again,as if struck by a happy invention. 'Cripplestraw,' he began, with anartificial laugh, 'I am obliged to confess, after all--I must see her!'Tisn't nature that makes me draw back--'tis love. I must go and lookfor her.'
'A woman, sir?'
'I didn't want to confess it; but 'tis a woman. Strange that I should bedrawn so entirely against my natural wish to rush at 'em!'
Cripplestraw, seeing which way the wind blew, found it advisable to blowin harmony. 'Ah, now at last I see, sir! Spite that few men live thatbe worthy to command ye; spite that you could rush on, marshal the troopsto victory, as I may say; but then--what of it? there's the unhappy fateof being smit with the eyes of a woman, and you are unmanned! MaisterDerriman, who is himself, when he's got a woman round his neck like amillstone?'
'It is something like that.'
'I feel the case. Be you valiant?--I know, of course, the words being amatter of form--be you valiant, I ask? Yes, of course. Then don't youwaste it in the open field. Hoard it up, I say, sir, for a higher classof war--the defence of yer adorable lady. Think what you owe her at thisterrible time! Now, Maister Derriman, once more I ask ye to cast offthat first haughty wish to rush to Budmouth, and to go where your mis'essis defenceless and alone.'
'I will, Cripplestraw, now you put it like that!'
'Thank ye, thank ye heartily, Maister Derriman. Go now and hide withher.'
'But can I? Now, hang flattery!--can a man hide without a stain? Ofcourse I would not hide in any mean sense; no, not I!'
'If you be in love, 'tis plain you may, since it is not your own life,but another's, that you are concerned for, and you only save your ownbecause it can't be helped.'
''Tis true, Cripplestraw, in a sense. But will it be understood thatway? Will they see it as a brave hiding?'
'Now, sir, if you had not been in love I own to ye that hiding would lookqueer, but being to save the tears, groans, fits, swowndings, and perhapsdeath of a comely young wo
man, yer principle is good; you honourablyretreat because you be too gallant to advance. This sounds strange, yemay say, sir; but it is plain enough to less fiery minds.'
Festus did for a moment try to uncover his teeth in a natural smile, butit died away. 'Cripplestraw, you flatter me; or do you mean it? Well,there's truth in it. I am more gallant in going to her than in marchingto the shore. But we cannot be too careful about our good names, wesoldiers. I must not be seen. I'm off.'
Cripplestraw opened the hurdle which closed the arch under the porticogateway, and Festus passed under, Uncle Benjamin singing, _Twen-ty-threeand a half from N.W._ with a sort of sublime ecstasy, feeling, as Festushad observed, that his money was safe, and that the French would notpersonally molest an old man in such a ragged, mildewed coat as that hewore, which he had taken the precaution to borrow from a scarecrow in oneof his fields for the purpose.
Festus rode on full of his intention to seek out Anne, and under cover ofprotecting her retreat accompany her to King's-Bere, where he knew theLovedays had relatives. In the lane he met Granny Seamore, who, havingpacked up all her possessions in a small basket, was placidly retreatingto the mountains till all should be over.
'Well, granny, have ye seen the French?' asked Festus.
'No,' she said, looking up at him through her brazen spectacles. 'If Ihad I shouldn't ha' seed thee!'
'Faugh!' replied the yeoman, and rode on. Just as he reached the oldroad, which he had intended merely to cross and avoid, his countenancefell. Some troops of regulars, who appeared to be dragoons, wererattling along the road. Festus hastened towards an opposite gate, so asto get within the field before they should see him; but, as ill-luckwould have it, as soon as he got inside, a party of six or seven of hisown yeomanry troop were straggling across the same field and making forthe spot where he was. The dragoons passed without seeing him; but whenhe turned out into the road again it was impossible to retreat towardsOvercombe village because of the yeomen. So he rode straight on, andheard them coming at his heels. There was no other gate, and the highwaysoon became as straight as a bowstring. Unable thus to turn withoutmeeting them, and caught like an eel in a water-pipe, Festus drew nearerand nearer to the fateful shore. But he did not relinquish hope. Justahead there were cross-roads, and he might have a chance of slipping downone of them without being seen. On reaching the spot he found that hewas not alone. A horseman had come up the right-hand lane and drawnrein. It was an officer of the German legion, and seeing Festus he heldup his hand. Festus rode up to him and saluted.
'It ist false report!' said the officer.
Festus was a man again. He felt that nothing was too much for him. Theofficer, after some explanation of the cause of alarm, said that he wasgoing across to the road which led by the moor, to stop the troops andvolunteers converging from that direction, upon which Festus offered togive information along the Casterbridge road. The German crossed over,and was soon out of sight in the lane, while Festus turned back upon theway by which he had come. The party of yeomanry cavalry was rapidlydrawing near, and he soon recognized among them the excited voices ofStubb of Duddle Hole, Noakes of Muckleford, and other comrades of hisorgies at the hall. It was a magnificent opportunity, and Festus drewhis sword. When they were within speaking distance he reined round hischarger's head to Budmouth and shouted, 'On, comrades, on! I am waitingfor you. You have been a long time getting up with me, seeing theglorious nature of our deeds to-day!'
'Well said, Derriman, well said!' replied the foremost of the riders.'Have you heard anything new?'
'Only that he's here with his tens of thousands, and that we are to rideto meet him sword in hand as soon as we have assembled in the town aheadhere.'
'O Lord!' said Noakes, with a slight falling of the lower jaw.
'The man who quails now is unworthy of the name of yeoman,' said Festus,still keeping ahead of the other troopers and holding up his sword to thesun. 'O Noakes, fie, fie! You begin to look pale, man.'
'Faith, perhaps you'd look pale,' said Noakes, with an envious glanceupon Festus's daring manner, 'if you had a wife and family depending uponye!'
'I'll take three frog-eating Frenchmen single-handed!' rejoined Derriman,still flourishing his sword.
'They have as good swords as you; as you will soon find,' said another ofthe yeomen.
'If they were three times armed,' said Festus--'ay, thrice three times--Iwould attempt 'em three to one. How do you feel now, my old friendStubb?' (turning to another of the warriors.) 'O, friend Stubb! nobouncing health to our lady-loves in Oxwell Hall this summer as last. Eh,Brownjohn?'
'I am afraid not,' said Brownjohn gloomily.
'No rattling dinners at Stacie's Hotel, and the King below with hisstaff. No wrenching off door-knockers and sending 'em to the bakehousein a pie that nobody calls for. Weeks of cut-and-thrust work rather!'
'I suppose so.'
'Fight how we may we shan't get rid of the cursed tyrant before autumn,and many thousand brave men will lie low before it's done,' remarked ayoung yeoman with a calm face, who meant to do his duty without muchtalking.
'No grinning matches at Mai-dun Castle this summer,' Festus resumed; 'nothread-the-needle at Greenhill Fair, and going into shows and driving theshowman crazy with cock-a-doodle-doo!'
'I suppose not.'
'Does it make you seem just a trifle uncomfortable, Noakes? Keep up yourspirits, old comrade. Come, forward! we are only ambling on like so manydonkey-women. We have to get into Budmouth, join the rest of the troop,and then march along the coast west'ard, as I imagine. At this rate weshan't be well into the thick of battle before twelve o'clock. Spur on,comrades. No dancing on the green, Lockham, this year in the moonlight!You was tender upon that girl; gad, what will become o' her in thestruggle?'
'Come, come, Derriman,' expostulated Lockham--'this is all very well, butI don't care for 't. I am as ready to fight as any man, but--'
'Perhaps when you get into battle, Derriman, and see what it's like, yourcourage will cool down a little,' added Noakes on the same side, but withsecret admiration of Festus's reckless bravery.
'I shall be bayoneted first,' said Festus. 'Now let's rally, and on!'
Since Festus was determined to spur on wildly, the rest of the yeomen didnot like to seem behindhand, and they rapidly approached the town. Hadthey been calm enough to reflect, they might have observed that for thelast half-hour no carts or carriages had met them on the way, as they haddone further back. It was not till the troopers reached the turnpikethat they learnt what Festus had known a quarter of an hour before. Atthe intelligence Derriman sheathed his sword with a sigh; and the partysoon fell in with comrades who had arrived there before them, whereuponthe source and details of the alarm were boisterously discussed.
'What, didn't you know of the mistake till now?' asked one of these ofthe new-comers. 'Why, when I was dropping over the hill by the cross-roads I looked back and saw that man talking to the messenger, and hemust have told him the truth.' The speaker pointed to Festus. Theyturned their indignant eyes full upon him. That he had sported withtheir deepest feelings, while knowing the rumour to be baseless, was soonapparent to all.
'Beat him black and blue with the flat of our blades!' shouted two orthree, turning their horses' heads to drop back upon Derriman, in whichmove they were followed by most of the party.
But Festus, foreseeing danger from the unexpected revelation, had alreadyjudiciously placed a few intervening yards between himself and his fellow-yeomen, and now, clapping spurs to his horse, rattled like thunder andlightning up the road homeward. His ready flight added hotness to theirpursuit, and as he rode and looked fearfully over his shoulder he couldsee them following with enraged faces and drawn swords, a position whichthey kept up for a distance of more than a mile. Then he had thesatisfaction of seeing them drop off one by one, and soon he and hispanting charger remained alone on the highway.