V. THE SONG AND THE STRANGER
The trumpet-major now contrived to place himself near her, Anne'spresence having evidently been a great pleasure to him since the momentof his first seeing her. She was quite at her ease with him, and askedhim if he thought that Buonaparte would really come during the summer,and many other questions which the gallant dragoon could not answer, butwhich he nevertheless liked to be asked. William Tremlett, who had notenjoyed a sound night's rest since the First Consul's menace had becomeknown, pricked up his ears at sound of this subject, and inquired ifanybody had seen the terrible flat-bottomed boats that the enemy were tocross in.
'My brother Robert saw several of them paddling about the shore the lasttime he passed the Straits of Dover,' said the trumpet-major; and hefurther startled the company by informing them that there were supposedto be more than fifteen hundred of these boats, and that they would carrya hundred men apiece. So that a descent of one hundred and fiftythousand men might be expected any day as soon as Boney had brought hisplans to bear.
'Lord ha' mercy upon us!' said William Tremlett.
'The night-time is when they will try it, if they try it at all,' saidold Tullidge, in the tone of one whose watch at the beacon must, in thenature of things, have given him comprehensive views of the situation.'It is my belief that the point they will choose for making the shore isjust over there,' and he nodded with indifference towards a section ofthe coast at a hideous nearness to the house in which they wereassembled, whereupon Fencible Tremlett, and Cripplestraw of the Locals,tried to show no signs of trepidation.
'When d'ye think 'twill be?' said Volunteer Comfort, the blacksmith.
'I can't answer to a day,' said the corporal, 'but it will certainly bein a down-channel tide; and instead of pulling hard against it, he'll lethis boats drift, and that will bring 'em right into Budmouth Bay. 'Twillbe a beautiful stroke of war, if so be 'tis quietly done!'
'Beautiful,' said Cripplestraw, moving inside his clothes. 'But how ifwe should be all abed, corpel? You can't expect a man to be brave in hisshirt, especially we Locals, that have only got so far as shoulder fire-locks.'
'He's not coming this summer. He'll never come at all,' said a tallsergeant-major decisively.
Loveday the soldier was too much engaged in attending upon Anne and hermother to join in these surmises, bestirring himself to get the ladiessome of the best liquor the house afforded, which had, as a matter offact, crossed the Channel as privately as Buonaparte wished his army todo, and had been landed on a dark night over the cliff. After this heasked Anne to sing, but though she had a very pretty voice in privateperformances of that nature, she declined to oblige him; turning thesubject by making a hesitating inquiry about his brother Robert, whom hehad mentioned just before.
'Robert is as well as ever, thank you, Miss Garland,' he said. 'He isnow mate of the brig Pewit--rather young for such a command; but theowner puts great trust in him.' The trumpet-major added, deepening histhoughts to a profounder view of the person discussed, 'Bob is in love.'
Anne looked conscious, and listened attentively; but Loveday did not goon.
'Much?' she asked.
'I can't exactly say. And the strange part of it is that he never tellsus who the woman is. Nobody knows at all.'
'He will tell, of course?' said Anne, in the remote tone of a person withwhose sex such matters had no connexion whatever.
Loveday shook his head, and the tete-a-tete was put an end to by a burstof singing from one of the sergeants, who was followed at the end of hissong by others, each giving a ditty in his turn; the singer standing upin front of the table, stretching his chin well into the air, as thoughto abstract every possible wrinkle from his throat, and then plunginginto the melody. When this was over one of the foreign hussars--thegenteel German of Miller Loveday's description, who called himself aHungarian, and in reality belonged to no definite country--performed atTrumpet-major Loveday's request the series of wild motions that hedenominated his national dance, that Anne might see what it was like.Miss Garland was the flower of the whole company; the soldiers one andall, foreign and English, seemed to be quite charmed by her presence, asindeed they well might be, considering how seldom they came into thesociety of such as she.
Anne and her mother were just thinking of retiring to their own dwellingwhen Sergeant Stanner of the --th Foot, who was recruiting at Budmouth,began a satirical song:--
When law'-yers strive' to heal' a breach', And par-sons prac'-tise what' they preach'; Then lit'-tle Bo-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!
Chorus.--Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay.
When jus'-ti-ces' hold e'qual scales', And rogues' are on'-ly found' in jails'; Then lit'tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!
Chorus.--Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay.
When rich' men find' their wealth' a curse', And fill' there-with' the poor' man's purse'; Then lit'-tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!
Chorus.--Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay.
Poor Stanner! In spite of his satire, he fell at the bloody battle ofAlbuera a few years after this pleasantly spent summer at the Georgianwatering-place, being mortally wounded and trampled down by a Frenchhussar when the brigade was deploying into line under Beresford.
While Miller Loveday was saying 'Well done, Mr. Stanner!' at the close ofthe thirteenth stanza, which seemed to be the last, and Mr. Stanner wasmodestly expressing his regret that he could do no better, a stentorianvoice was heard outside the window shutter repeating,
Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay.
The company was silent in a moment at this reinforcement, and only themilitary tried not to look surprised. While all wondered who the singercould be somebody entered the porch; the door opened, and in came a youngman, about the size and weight of the Farnese Hercules, in the uniform ofthe yeomanry cavalry.
''Tis young Squire Derriman, old Mr. Derriman's nephew,' murmured voicesin the background.
Without waiting to address anybody, or apparently seeing who weregathered there, the colossal man waved his cap above his head and went onin tones that shook the window-panes:--
When hus'-bands with' their wives' agree'. And maids' won't wed' from mod'-es-ty', Then lit'-tle Bo'-ney he'll pounce down', And march' his men' on Lon'-don town'!
Chorus.--Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lo'-rum, Rol'-li-cum ro'-rum, tol'-lol-lay.
It was a verse which had been omitted by the gallant Stanner, out ofrespect to the ladies.
The new-comer was red-haired and of florid complexion, and seemed full ofa conviction that his whim of entering must be their pleasure, which forthe moment it was.
'No ceremony, good men all,' he said; 'I was passing by, and my ear wascaught by the singing. I like singing; 'tis warming and cheering, andshall not be put down. I should like to hear anybody say otherwise.'
'Welcome, Master Derriman,' said the miller, filling a glass and handingit to the yeoman. 'Come all the way from quarters, then? I hardlyknowed ye in your soldier's clothes. You'd look more natural with a spudin your hand, sir. I shouldn't ha' known ye at all if I hadn't heardthat you were called out.'
'More natural with a spud!--have a care, miller,' said the young giant,the fire of his complexion increasing to scarlet. 'I don't mean anger,but--but--a soldier's honour, you know!'
The military in the background laughed a little, and the yeoman then forthe first time discovered that there were more regulars present than one.He looked momentarily disconcerted, but expanded again to full assurance.
'Right, right, Master Derriman, no offence--'twas only my joke,' said thegenial miller. 'Everybody's a soldier nowadays. Drink a drap o' thiscordial, and don't mind words.'
r /> The young man drank without the least reluctance, and said, 'Yes, miller,I am called out. 'Tis ticklish times for us soldiers now; we hold ourlives in our hands--What are those fellows grinning at behind thetable?--I say, we do!'
'Staying with your uncle at the farm for a day or two, Mr. Derriman?'
'No, no; as I told you, six mile off. Billeted at Casterbridge. But Ihave to call and see the old, old--'
'Gentleman?'
'Gentleman!--no, skinflint. He lives upon the sweepings of the barton;ha, ha!' And the speaker's regular white teeth showed themselves likesnow in a Dutch cabbage. 'Well, well, the profession of arms makes a manproof against all that. I take things as I find 'em.'
'Quite right, Master Derriman. Another drop?'
'No, no. I'll take no more than is good for me--no man should; so don'ttempt me.'
The yeoman then saw Anne, and by an unconscious gravitation went towardsher and the other women, flinging a remark to John Loveday in passing.'Ah, Loveday! I heard you were come; in short, I come o' purpose to seeyou. Glad to see you enjoying yourself at home again.'
The trumpet-major replied civilly, though not without grimness, for heseemed hardly to like Derriman's motion towards Anne.
'Widow Garland's daughter!--yes, 'tis! surely. You remember me? I havebeen here before. Festus Derriman, Yeomanry Cavalry.'
Anne gave a little curtsey. 'I know your name is Festus--that's all.'
'Yes, 'tis well known--especially latterly.' He dropped his voice toconfidence pitch. 'I suppose your friends here are disturbed by mycoming in, as they don't seem to talk much? I don't mean to interruptthe party; but I often find that people are put out by my coming among'em, especially when I've got my regimentals on.'
'La! and are they?'
'Yes; 'tis the way I have.' He further lowered his tone, as if they hadbeen old friends, though in reality he had only seen her three or fourtimes. 'And how did you come to be here? Dash my wig, I don't like tosee a nice young lady like you in this company. You should come to someof our yeomanry sprees in Casterbridge or Shottsford-Forum. O, but thegirls do come! The yeomanry are respected men, men of good substantialfamilies, many farming their own land; and every one among us rides hisown charger, which is more than these cussed fellows do.' He noddedtowards the dragoons.
'Hush, hush! Why, these are friends and neighbours of Miller Loveday,and he is a great friend of ours--our best friend,' said Anne with greatemphasis, and reddening at the sense of injustice to their host. 'Whatare you thinking of, talking like that? It is ungenerous in you.'
'Ha, ha! I've affronted you. Isn't that it, fair angel, fair--what doyou call it?--fair vestal? Ah, well! would you was safe in my own house!But honour must be minded now, not courting. Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum. Pardon me, my sweet, I like ye! It may be a come down for me,owning land; but I do like ye.'
'Sir, please be quiet,' said Anne, distressed.
'I will, I will. Well, Corporal Tullidge, how's your head?' he said,going towards the other end of the room, and leaving Anne to herself.
The company had again recovered its liveliness, and it was a long timebefore the bouncing Rufus who had joined them could find heart to tearhimself away from their society and good liquors, although he had hadquite enough of the latter before he entered. The natives received himat his own valuation, and the soldiers of the camp, who sat beyond thetable, smiled behind their pipes at his remarks, with a pleasant twinkleof the eye which approached the satirical, John Loveday being not theleast conspicuous in this bearing. But he and his friends were toocourteous on such an occasion as the present to challenge the young man'slarge remarks, and readily permitted him to set them right on the detailsof camping and other military routine, about which the troopers seemedwilling to let persons hold any opinion whatever, provided that theythemselves were not obliged to give attention to it; showing, strangelyenough, that if there was one subject more than another which neverinterested their minds, it was the art of war. To them the art ofenjoying good company in Overcombe Mill, the details of the miller'shousehold, the swarming of his bees, the number of his chickens, and thefatness of his pigs, were matters of infinitely greater concern.
The present writer, to whom this party has been described times out ofnumber by members of the Loveday family and other aged people now passedaway, can never enter the old living-room of Overcombe Mill withoutbeholding the genial scene through the mists of the seventy or eightyyears that intervene between then and now. First and brightest to theeye are the dozen candles, scattered about regardless of expense, andkept well snuffed by the miller, who walks round the room at intervals offive minutes, snuffers in hand, and nips each wick with great precision,and with something of an executioner's grim look upon his face as hecloses the snuffers upon the neck of the candle. Next to thecandle-light show the red and blue coats and white breeches of thesoldiers--nearly twenty of them in all besides the ponderous Derriman--thehead of the latter, and, indeed, the heads of all who are standing up,being in dangerous proximity to the black beams of the ceiling. There isnot one among them who would attach any meaning to 'Vittoria,' or gatherfrom the syllables 'Waterloo' the remotest idea of his own glory ordeath. Next appears the correct and innocent Anne, little thinking whatthings Time has in store for her at no great distance off. She looks atDerriman with a half-uneasy smile as he clanks hither and thither, andhopes he will not single her out again to hold a private dialoguewith--which, however, he does, irresistibly attracted by the white muslinfigure. She must, of course, look a little gracious again now, lest hismood should turn from sentimental to quarrelsome--no impossiblecontingency with the yeoman-soldier, as her quick perception had noted.
'Well, well; this idling won't do for me, folks,' he at last said, toAnne's relief. 'I ought not to have come in, by rights; but I heard youenjoying yourselves, and thought it might be worth while to see what youwere up to; I have several miles to go before bedtime;' and stretchinghis arms, lifting his chin, and shaking his head, to eradicate anyunseemly curve or wrinkle from his person, the yeoman wished them an off-hand good-night, and departed.
'You should have teased him a little more, father,' said thetrumpet-major drily. 'You could soon have made him as crabbed as abear.'
'I didn't want to provoke the chap--'twasn't worth while. He came infriendly enough,' said the gentle miller without looking up.
'I don't think he was overmuch friendly,' said John.
''Tis as well to be neighbourly with folks, if they be not quiteonbearable,' his father genially replied, as he took off his coat to goand draw more ale--this periodical stripping to the shirt-sleeves beingnecessitated by the narrowness of the cellar and the smeary effect of itsnumerous cobwebs upon best clothes.
Some of the guests then spoke of Fess Derriman as not such a bad youngman if you took him right and humoured him; others said that he wasnobody's enemy but his own; and the elder ladies mentioned in a tone ofinterest that he was likely to come into a deal of money at his uncle'sdeath. The person who did not praise was the one who knew him best, whohad known him as a boy years ago, when he had lived nearer to Overcombethan he did at present. This unappreciative person was thetrumpet-major.