Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

  THE SHAKES.

  The time glided on. Bargle grew better; Mr Marston's wound healed; andthese troubles were forgotten in the busy season which the fine weatherbrought. For the great drain progressed rapidly in the bright springand early summer-time. There were stoppages when heavy rains fell; buton the whole nature seemed to be of opinion that the fen had lainuncultivated for long enough, and that it was time there was a change.

  The old people scattered here and there about the edge shook theirheads, especially when they came over to Hickathrift's, and said itwould all be swept away one of these fine nights--_it_ being the newriver stretching week by week farther into the morass; but the flood didnot seem to have that effect when it did come. On the contrary, shortas was the distance which the great drain had penetrated, its effect waswonderful, for it carried off water in a few days which would otherwisehave 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 goodfriends, and it was nice to have a chap who knew such a lot over at theToft.

  For the intimacy had grown; and whenever work was done, reports writtenout and sent off, and no duties raised their little reproving heads tosay, "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 seemsso 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 betterlot than he has got."

  Dick said nothing, for he thought those summer evenings delightful. Heand Tom, too, had been ready enough to laugh at their new friendwhenever he displayed ignorance of some term common to the district; butnow this laughter was lost in admiration as they found how he couldpoint out objects in their various excursions which they had never seenbefore, book-lore having prepared him to find treasures in theneighbourhood of the Toft of whose existence its occupants knew naught.

  "Don't you find it very dull out there, Mr Marston," said MrsWinthorpe one day, "always watching your men cut--cut--cut--through thatwet black bog?"

  "Dull, madam!" he said, smiling; "why, it is one continual time ofexcitement. I watch every spadeful that is taken out, expecting to comeupon 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 usedto roam these parts hundreds of years ago."

  "I say, Marston," said the squire, "you'd like to see your great band ofruffians at work excavating here, eh?"

  "Mr Winthorpe," said the young man, "I'd give anything to be allowed tosearch the ruins."

  "Yes, and turn my place upside down, and disturb the home of the poorold monks who used to live here! No, no; I'm not going to have my placeragged to pieces. But when we do dig down, we come upon some curiousold stones."

  "Like your tobacco-jar?" the engineer said, pointing to the old carvencorbel.

  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'sgoing over to see John Warren?"

  "Ah, I wish you would go," said Mrs Winthorpe, "and take the poorfellow over some things I have ready, in a basket!"

  "I'll go," said Dick. "Hicky will take us in his punt. There'll beplenty of time, and it's moonlight at nine."

  "I'll go with you, Dick," said Marston. "What's the matter with theman?"

  "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'sswept away by the drainage, the people will talk of it as one of thegood things destroyed by our work. They are rare ones to grumble, andstick 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 helprecalling how one old labourer's wife had shaken her head and spit uponthe ground as his father went by, and wondered in his mind whether thiswas some form of curse.

  "Tak' you over to the Warren, my lad?" said Hickathrift, as they reachedthe wheelwright's shed, where the big fellow was just taking down a hoeto go gardening.

  "Why, of course I will. Straange niced evening, Mr Marston! Comealong. 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 placewhere his punt was floating, fastened to an old willow-stump; and assoon 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 gunhad a peculiar fascination for him; but he said nothing, only seatedhimself, and trailed his hand in the dark water as the lusty wheelwrightsent the punt surging along.

  "Why, Hickathrift," cried Mr Marston, "I thought our friend Dave awonder 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 shovestronger, but he'd ding [beat] me at it. He's cunning like. Always atit, 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 outtogether 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 thebroad mere glistened and glowed with the wonderful reflection from thesky. The great patches of reeds waved, and every now and then the weirdcry of the moor-hen came over the water. Here and there perfect cloudsof gnats were dancing with their peculiar flight; swallows were stillbusy darting about, and now and then a leather-winged bat fluttered overthem seeking its insect food.

  "What a lovely place this looks in a summer evening!" said Mr Marstonthoughtfully.

  "Ay, mester, and I suppose you are going to spoil it all with your bigdrain," said the wheelwright, and he ceased poling for a few moments, asthe punt entered a natural canal through a reed-bed.

  "Spoil it, my man! No. Only change its aspect. It will be asbeautiful 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 thewater, falling back, and rising again, somewhat after the fashion offlying-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," headded excitedly, as a large fish rose, made a tremendous splash, andthen seemed to be working its way among the bending reeds. "Might havegot him perhaps if we had had a line."

  Mr Marston made no reply, for he was watching the slow heavy flap-flapof a heron as it rose from before them with something indistinctly seenin its beak.

  "What has it got?" he said.

  Dick turned sharply, and made out that there seemed to be a round knobabout the great bird's bill, giving it the appearance of having thrustit 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 itsuddenly untwisted itself, and writhed into another form. Then theheron changed its direction, and nothing but the great, grey beatingpinions of the bird were visible, the long legs outstretched like atail, the bent back neck, and projecting beak being merged in the bodyas it flew straight away.

  Hickathrift worked hard at the pole, and soon after rounding o
ne greatbed of reeds they came in sight of the rough gravelly patch with asomewhat rounded outline, which formed the Warren, and upon which wasthe hut inhabited by John o' the Warren, out of whose name "o'-the" wasgenerally dropped.

  The moment they came in sight there was a loud burst of barking, andSnig, John Warren's little rabbit-dog, came tearing down to the shore,with the effect of rendering visible scores of rabbits, until thenunseen; for the dog's barking sent them scurrying off to their holes,each displaying its clear, white, downy tuft of a tail, which showedclearly in the evening light.

  The dog's bark was at first an angry challenge, but as he came nearerhis tone changed to a whine of welcome; and as soon as he reached thewater'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 inturn, as the visitors to the sandy island landed, and began to walk upto the sick man's hut.

  There were no rabbits visible now, but the ground was honey-combed withtheir holes, many of which were quite close to the home of their tyrantmaster, who lived as a sort of king among them, and slew as many as hethought fit.

  John Warren's home was not an attractive one, being merely a hut builtup of bricks of peat cut from the fen, furnished with a small window, anarrow door, and thickly thatched with reeds.

  He heard them coming, and, as they approached, came and stood at thedoor, looking yellow, hollow of cheek, and shivering visibly.

  "Here, John Warren, we've brought you a basket!" cried Dick. "How areyou? I say, don't you want the doctor?"

  "Yah! what should I do with a doctor?" growled the man, scowling at allin 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 moreado he took the basket from the extended hand, opened the lid, andturned it upside down, so that its contents rolled upon the sand, anddisplayed 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 seeI'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, turningupon his heel, walked back into the hut, while Snig, his dog, seatedhimself beside the contents of the basket, and kept a self-constitutedguard over them, from which he could not be coaxed.

  "Might have showed us something about the Warren," said Dick in anill-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 mindpoling?"

  "He says I won't mind poling, Mester Marston," said Hickathrift with achuckle. "Here, come along."

  John Warren had disappeared into the cottage, but as they walked awaysome of the rabbits came to the mouths of their holes and watched theirdeparture, 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, tohave such a master! Look at him watching that food, and not touchingit. Wait a minute!"

  Dick ran back to the dog and stooped down to open a cloth, when thefaithful guard began to snarl at him and show his teeth.

  "Why, you ungrateful beggar!" cried Dick; "I was going to give you a bitof 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 makecharges at the visitor's legs so fiercely that Dick deemed it prudent tostand still for a few moments.

  "Now, then," he said, as the dog seemed to grow more calm; "just see ifyou can't understand plain English!"

  The dog looked up at him and uttered a low whine, accompanying it by awag of the tail.

  "That's better!" cried Dick. "I'm going to pull you off a leg of thatchicken 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 thecloth in which the chicken was wrapped; but Snig made such a furiousonslaught upon him that the boy started back, half in alarm, half inanger, 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 asthey got on board; and directly after, with lusty thrusts, thewheelwright sent the punt along in the direction of Dave's home.

  The evening was still beautiful, but here and there little patches ofmist hung over the water, and the rich glow in the west was fast fadingout.

  "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 cameupon a great tree trunk this afternoon, and I want to examine it when itis 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'sbark was one of delight from the very first, and dashing down to thewater, he rushed in and began swimming rapidly to meet them.

  "Why, Chip, old doggie!" cried Dick, as, snorting and panting with thewater he splashed into his nostrils, the dog came aside, and after beinglifted into the boat gave himself a shake, and then thrust his nose intoevery 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 theengineer.

  "Here's Dave," said Dick. "Hoy, Dave!"

  The decoy-man came slowly down toward the shore to meet them, and wavedhis hand in answer to Dick's call.

  "Oh, I am sorry!" cried the latter. "I wish I'd brought him somethingtoo. I daresay he's as bad as John Warren."

  Dave's appearance proved the truth of Dick's assertion. The decoy-mannever looked healthy, but now he seemed ghastly of aspect andexceedingly 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 upagainst 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 asthe party landed, he too shivered and looked exceedingly feverish andill.

  "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 ashivering fit."

  "Well, I'm trying to doctor you," said the engineer, laughing. "Once weget 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, forMr Marston to walk over to the sea-bank to-night; but I'll come overand see you to-morrow and bring you something. What would you like?"

  "What you heven't got, Mester Dick," said the fen-man, showing hisyellow teeth. "Bit of opium or a drop o' lodolum. Nay, I don't wantyou to send me owt. Neighbour Hick'thrift here'll get me some when hegoes over to market."

/>   Hickathrift nodded, and after a little more conversation the partyreturned toward the boat.

  "Straange and thick to-night, Mester Dick," said Dave. "Be thickersoon. 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 youto 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 theboat seemed to enter a bank of mist, so thick that the wheelwright, ashe poled, was almost invisible from where Mr Marston and Dick wereseated.

  "I say, Hicky, turn back and let's go along the edge of the fog," criedDick.

  "Nay, it's driftin' ower us," replied the wheelwright. "Best keep onand 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 passover."

  But it did not soon pass over; and as the wheelwright pushed on itseemed to be into a denser mist than ever.

  For a long time they were going over perfectly clear water; but soon therustling of reeds against the prow of the boat told that they must begoing wrong, and Hickathrift bore off to the right till the reeds warnedhim to bear to the left. And so it went on, with the night falling, andthe thick mist seeming to shut them in, and so confusing him that atlast the wheelwright said:

  "Best wait a bit, Mester Dick. I dunno which way I'm going, and it'slike being blind."

  "Here, let me have the pole!" cried Dick. And going to the front of theboat, the wheelwright good-humouredly gave way for him, with the resultthat the lad vigorously propelled the craft for the space of about tenminutes, 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 aregoing 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, andas 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 startedaside and nearly went overboard, but recovered himself, and sat downpanting.

  "Here! hi! Mind where you're shooting!" cried Dick. "Who's that?"

  He stared in the direction from which the sound had come, but nothingbut mist was visible, and no answer came.

  "Do you hear? Who's that?" shouted Dick with both his hands to hismouth.

  No answer came, and Hickathrift now shouted.

  Still no reply. His great sonorous voice seemed to return upon him, asif he were enveloped in a tremendous tent of wet flannel; and though heshouted again and again it was without result.

  "Why, what's the matter with your hand, man?" cried Mr Marston, as thewheelwright took his cotton kerchief from his neck, and began to bind itround 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 handaside."

  "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 theevening when he was shot, and he glanced round, expecting to see a flashand 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 inopen water, began to toil as hard as he could for a few minutes till thewheelwright relieved him. Declaring his injury to be a trifle, he inturn worked hard with the pole till, after running into the reedsseveral times, and more than once striking against patches of bog andrush, 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 suddenlyin the bottom of the boat.

  As he seated himself he laid the pole across, and then without warningfell back fainting dead away.

  A few minutes, however, only elapsed before he sat up again and lookedround.

  "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; whileDick 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 begoing farther away, like as not."

  Dick said nothing, but stood listening, fancying he heard the splash ofa pole in water; but there was no sound save the throbbing of his ownheart 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 whenthe moon rises theer may come a breeze, and then it'll go directly."

  Hickathrift rested his chin upon his uninjured hand, and Dick sat downin silence, for by one consent, and influenced by the feeling that somestealthy foe might be near at hand keen-eyed enough to see them throughthe fog, or at all events cunning enough to trace them by sound, theysat and waited for the rising of the moon.

  The time seemed to be drawn out to a terrible extent before there was aperceptible lightening on their left; and as soon as he saw that, thoughthe mist was as thick as ever, Hickathrift rose and began to work withthe pole, for he knew his bearings now by the position of the risingmoon, and working away, in half an hour the little party emerged fromthe mist as suddenly as they had dived in, but they were far wide oftheir destination, and quite another hour elapsed before they reachedthe old willow-stump, where the wheelwright made fast his boat, andassuring his companions that there was nothing much wrong he went to hiscottage, while Mr Marston gladly accompanied Dick to the Toft, feelingafter the shock they had had that even if it had not been so late, awalk down to the sea-beach that night would neither be pleasant nor oneto undertake.

  Dick was boiling over with impatience, and told his father the news themoment 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, greatlyafraid, it was meant for me."