CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
THE TROUBLES CULMINATE.
The fire at the wheelwright's lasted people nearly a month for gossip,but Hickathrift would not believe it was the work of spirits now.
Then came the news of a fresh outrage. The horses employed in bringingstones for certain piers to water-gates were shot dead one night.
Next, a fresh attempt was made to blow up the sluice, but failed.
Last of all, the man who was put on to watch was shot dead, and his bodyfound in the drain.
After this there was a pause, and the work was carried on with sullenwatchfulness and bitter hate. The denunciations against the workers ofthe evil were fierce and long.
But in spite of all, the drain progressed slowly and steadily. Theengineer was carrying his advances right into the stronghold of thefen-men, who bore it all in silence, but struck sharply again and again.
"I wonder who is to get the next taste!" said Tom Tallington one day ashe and Dick were talking.
"No one," said Dick; "so don't talk about it. The people are gettingused to the draining, and father thinks they'll all settle down quietlynow."
"How long is it since that poor fellow was shot?"
"Don't talk about it, I tell you," said Dick angrily. "Three months."
"No."
"Nearly."
Dick was right; nearly three months had gone by since the poor fellowset to keep watch by Mr Marston had been shot dead, and thisculmination of the horrors of the opposition had apparently startled hismurderers from making farther attempts.
"I tell you what it is," said Tom, "the man who fired that shot and didall the other mischief has left the country. He dare not stay anylonger for fear of being caught."
"Then it was no one over our side of the fen," said Dick thoughtfully."Perhaps you are right. Well, I'm going to have a good long day in thebog to-morrow. It's wonderfully dry now, and I mean to have a goodwander. What time shall you be ready?"
"Can't go," said Tom. "I've promised to ride with father over to thetown."
"What a pity! Well, never mind; we'll go again the next day and have agood long day then."
"Will Mr Marston go with us?"
"No. I asked him, and he said he should be too busy at present, but hewould go in a fortnight's time. He said he should not want either of usfor a week, so we can go twice if we like."
Tom smiled as if, in spite of his many wanderings, the idea of a ramblein the fen would be agreeable.
"Shall you fish?" he said.
"N-no, I don't think I shall. I mean to have a long wander through theflats away west of the fir island."
"You can't," said Tom; "it's too boggy."
"Not it. Only got to pick your way. Do you think I don't know what I'mabout?"
"Better take old Solomon with you, and ride him till he sinks in, andthen you can walk along his back into a safe place."
"Then I'd better take another donkey too, and get him to lie down when Icome to another soft place."
"Ah, I would!" said Tom.
"I shall," said Dick. "Will you come?"
"Do you mean by that to say that I am a donkey?" cried Tom half angrily.
"Yes, when you talk such stupid nonsense. Just as if I couldn't getthrough any bog out here in the fen. Anyone would think I was a child."
"Well, don't get lost," said Tom; "but I must go now."
The boys parted, with the promise that Tom was to come over from Grimseyto breakfast the next morning but one, well provided with lunch; that inthe interim Dick was to arrange with Hickathrift about his punt, andthat then they were to have a thoroughly good long exploring day, rightinto some of the mysterious parts of the fen, Dick's first journey beingso much scouting ready for the following day's advance.
As soon as Dick was left alone he strolled down to the wheelwright's,having certain plans of his own to exploit.
"Well, Hicky, nearly got all right?" he said.
"Nay, nay, lad, and sha'n't be for a twelvemonth," replied the greatbluff fellow, staring at his newly-erected cottage. "Taks a deal o'doing to get that streight. How is it you're not over at the works?"
"Not wanted for a bit. I say, Hicky, may I have the punt to-morrow?"
"Sewerly, Mester Dick, sewerly. I'll set Jacob to clear her oot a bitfor you. Going fishing?"
"Well--no," said Dick, hesitating. "I was--er--thinking of doing alittle shooting."
"What at fend o' June! Nay, nay, theer's no shooting now."
"Not regular shooting, but I thought I might get something curious,perhaps, right away yonder."
"Ay, ay, perhaps so."
"Might see a big pike basking, and shoot that."
"Like enough, my lad, like enough. Squire going to lend you a goon?"
Dick shook his head, but the wheelwright was busy taking a shaving off apiece of wood, so did not see it, and repeated his question.
"No, Hicky, I want you to lend me one of those new ones."
"What, as squire and Mr Marston left for me and Jacob! Nay, nay, lad,that wean't do."
"Oh, yes, it will, Hicky. I'll take great care of it, and clean it whenI've done. Lend me the gun, there's a good fellow."
"Nay, nay. That would never do, my lad. Couldn't do it."
"Why not, Hicky?"
"Not mine. What would squire say?"
"He wouldn't know, Hicky. I shouldn't tell him."
"Bud I should, lad. Suppose thou wast to shoot thee sen, or blow off aleg or a hand? Nay, nay. Yow can hev the boat, bud don't come to mefor a gun."
Hickathrift was inexorable, and what was more, he watched his applicantnarrowly, to make sure that Dick did not corrupt Jacob.
His visitor noticed it, and charged him with the fact.
"Ay," he said, laughing, "that's a true word. I know what Jacob is.He'd do anything for sixpence."
"I hope he wouldn't set fire to the house for that," said Dick angrily.
Hickathrift started as if stung, and stared at his visitor.
"Nay," he said, recovering himself, "our Jacob nivver did that. He werefast asleep that night, and his bed were afire when I wackened him.Don't say such a word as that."
"I didn't mean it, Hicky; but do lend me the gun."
"Nay, my, lad, I wean't. There's the poont and welcome, but no gun."
Dick knew the wheelwright too well to persevere; and in his heart hecould not help admiring the man's stern sense of honesty; so making uphis mind to be content with some fishing and a good wander in theuntrodden parts of the fen, he asked Hickathrift to get him some baitswith his cast-net.
"Ay, I'll soon get them for you, my lad," said Hickathrift. "Get aboocket, Jacob, lad."
The next minute he was getting the newly-made circular net with itspipe-leads from where it hung over the rafters of his shed, and stridingdown to a suitable shallow where a shoal of small fish could be seen, heranged the net upon his arm, holding the cord tightly, and, givinghimself a spin round, threw the net so that it spread out flat, with thepipe-leads flying out centrifugally, and covering a good deal of space,the leads driving the fish into the centre. When it was drawn a coupleof dozen young roach and rudd were made captives, and transferred to thebucket of water Jacob brought.
"Fetch that little bit o' net and a piece o' band, lad," said thewheelwright; and as soon as Jacob reappeared, Hickathrift bound the finenet over the top of the pail, and lowered it by the cord into a deepcold pool close by the punt.
"Theer they'll be all ready and lively for you in the morning, andyou'll hev better sport than you would wi' a gun."
Opinions are various, and Dick's were very different to thewheelwright's; but he accepted his rebuff with as good a grace as hecould, and went home.
The next morning was delicious. One of those lovely summer-times whenthe sky is blue, and the earth is just in its most beautiful robe ofgreen.
"Going on the mere, Dick?" said his father. "Well, don't get drowned orbogged."
"Dick wil
l take care," said Mrs Winthorpe, who was busy cuttingprovender.
"Tom Tallington going with you?" said the squire.
"No, father; I'm going alone."
"I wish you could have come with me, Hicky!" said Dick, as, laden withhis basket of fishing-tackle and provender, he took his place in thepunt.
"Ay, and I wish so too," said the wheelwright, smiling, as he drew upand uncovered the pail of bait to set it in the boat. "Bud too busy.Theer you are! Now, go along, and don't stop tempting a man who oughtto be at work. Be off!"
To secure himself against further temptation he gave the punt a pushwhich sent it several yards away; so, picking up the pole, Dick thrustit down and soon left the Toft behind, while the water glistened, themarsh-marigolds glowed, and the reeds looked quite purple in places, sodark was their green.
Dick poled himself along, watching the water-fowl and the rising heronsdisturbed in their fishing, while here and there he could see plenty ofsmall fish playing about the surface of the mere; but he was not in anangling humour, and though the tempting baits played about in the buckethe did not select any to hook and set trimmers for the pike that werelurking here and there.
At last, though, he began to grow tired of poling, for the sun was hot;and, thinking it would be better to wait for Tom before he tried toexplore the wild part of the fen, he thrust the punt along, to select aplace and try for a pike.
This drew his attention to the baits, where one of the little roach hadturned up nearly dead, a sure sign that the water required changing, so,setting down the pole, he took up the bucket, and, lowering it slowlyover the side, he held one edge level with the water, so that the freshcould pour in and the stale and warm be displaced.
Trifles act as large levers sometimes. In this case for one, a fewdrops of water from the dripping pole made the bottom of the puntslippery; and as Dick leaned over the side his foot gave way, the weightof the bucket overbalanced him, and he had to seize the side of the puntto save himself. This he did, but as he leaned over, nearly touchingthe water, it was to gaze at the bucket descending rapidly, and the fishescaping, for he had let go.
"What a nuisance!" he cried, as he saw the great vessel seem to turn ofa deeper golden hue as it descended and then disappeared, becominginvisible in the dark water, while the punt drifted away before he couldtake up the pole to thrust it back.
There was nothing to guide him, and the poling was difficult, for thewater was here very deep, and though he tried several times to find thespot where the bucket had gone down, it was without success.
"Why, if I did find it," he muttered, "I shouldn't be able to get it upwithout a hook."
This ended the prospect of fishing, and as he stood there idly dippingdown the pole he hesitated as to what he should do, ending by beginningto go vigorously in the direction of Dave Gittan's newly-built-up hut.
"I'll make him take me out shooting," he said; "and we'll go all overthat rough part of the fen."
There were very few traces of the past winter's fire visible at Dave'shome as Dick approached, ran his punt on to the soft bog-moss, andlanded, securing his rope to a tree, and there were no signs of Dave.
He shouted, but there was no reply, and it seemed evident that the dogwas away as well.
A walk across to Dave's own special landing-place put it beyond doubt,for the boat was absent.
"What a bother!" muttered Dick, walking back toward the hut, a strongerand better place than the one which had been burned. "Perhaps he hasgone to see John Warren!"
Dick hesitated as to whether he should follow, and as he hesitated hereached the door of the hut and peeped in, to make sure that the dog wasnot there asleep.
The place was vacant, and as untidy already as the old hut. In onecorner there was a heap of feathers plucked from the wild-geese he hadshot; in another a few skins, two being those of foxes, the cunninganimals making the fen, where hunters never came, their sanctuary.There were traces, too, of Dave's last meal.
But it was at none of these that Dick looked so earnestly, but at the'coy-man's old well-rubbed gun hanging in a pair of slings cut from someold boot, and tempting the lad as, under the circumstances, a gun wouldtempt.
Hickathrift had refused to lend him one, badly as he wanted it; and hereby accident was the very thing he wanted staring at him almost as ifasking him to take it.
And Dave! where was he?
Dave might be anywhere, and not return perhaps for days. His comingsand goings were very erratic, and Dick tried to think that if the manwere there he would have lent him the gun.
But it was a failure.
"He wouldn't have lent it to me," said Dick sadly; and he turned to go.But as he glanced round, there was the old powder-horn upon aroughly-made shelf, and beside it, the leathern bag in which Dave kepthis shot, with a little shell loose therein which he used for a measure.
It was tempting. There was the gun; there lay the ammunition. He couldtake the gun, use it, and bring it back, and give Dave twice as muchpowder and shot as he had fired away. He could even clean the gun if heliked; but he would not do that, but bring it back boldly, and own tohaving taken it Dave would not be very cross, and if he were it did notmatter.
He would take the gun.
No, he would not. It was like stealing the man's piece.
No, it was not--only borrowing, and Dave would be the gainer.
Still he hesitated, thinking of his father, of Hickathrift's refusal, ofits being a mean action to come and take a man's property in hisabsence; and in this spirit Dick flung out of the hut and walkedstraight down to the boat, seeing nothing but that gun tempting him asit were, and asking him to seize the opportunity and enjoy a day'sshooting untrammelled by anyone.
"It wouldn't do," he said with a sigh as he got slowly into the boat andstooped to untie the rope, when, perhaps, the position sent the bloodrushing to his head. At any rate his wilful thoughts mastered him, andin a spirit of reckless indifference to the consequences he leapedashore, ran up to the hut, dashed in, caught up the powder-horn andshot-bag, thrust them into his pockets, and seizing the gun, he took itfrom its leather slings, his hands trembling, and a sensation upon himthat Dave was looking in at the door.
"What an idiot I was!" he cried, with a feeling of bravado now upon theincrease. "Dave won't mind, and I want to shoot all by myself."
He glanced round uneasily enough as he made for the punt, where he laidthe gun carefully down, and, seizing his pole, soon sent the vessel tosome distance from the hut, every stroke seeming to make him breathemore freely, while a keen sensation of joy pervaded him as he glancedfrom time to time at the old flint-lock piece, and longed to be wherethere would be a chance to shoot.
The day was hot as ever, but the heat was forgotten as the punt was sentrapidly along in the direction of the fir-clump island, for it was outthere that the wilder part of the fen commenced, and the hope that hewould there find the birds more tame consequent upon the absence ofmolestation made the laborious toil of poling seem light.
But all the same a couple of hours' hard work had been given to thetask, and Dick was still far from his goal, when it occurred to him thata little of the bread and butter cut in slices, and with a good thickpiece of ham between each pair, would not be amiss.
He laid the pole across the boat, then, and for a quarter of an hourdevoted himself to the task of food conversion for bodily support.
This done, there was the gun lying there. It was not likely that hewould have a chance at anything; but he thought it would be as well tobe prepared, and in this spirit, with hands trembling from eagerness, heraised the piece and began the task of loading, so much powder, and somuch paper to ram down upon it.
But he had no paper. It was forgotten, and Dick paused.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Dick took out hispocket-handkerchief and his knife, and in a few minutes the cottonsquare was cut up, a piece rammed in as a wad, and a measure of shotpoured on the top.
Another piece of handkerchie
f succeeded, going down the barrel with thatpeculiar _whish whash_ sound, to be thumped hard with the ramrod at thebottom till the rod was ready to leap out of the barrel again.
Then there was the pan to open and prove full of powder, and all readyfor the first great wild bird he should see, or perhaps a hare or a fox,as soon as he should land.
For it was thought no sin to shoot the foxes there in that wild cornerof England, where hounds had never been laid on, and the only chance ofhunting would have been in boats. Foxes lived and bred there year afteryear, and died without ever hearing the music of the huntsman's horn.
Dick laid the gun down with a sigh, and took up the pole, which he usedfor nearly an hour before, with the fir island well to his left, he ranthe punt into a narrow cove among the reeds which spread before him,and, taking the piece, stepped out upon what was a new land.
It must have been with something of the feelings of the old navigatorswho touched at some far western isle, that Dick Winthorpe landed fromhis boat, and secured it by knotting together some long rushes and tyingthe punt rope to them. For here he was in a place where the foot of mancould have rarely if ever trod, and, revelling in his freedom and thebeauty of the scene around, he shouldered the piece.
He would have acted more wisely if he had filled his pockets withprovender from the basket; but he wanted those pockets for the powderand shot, and without intending to go very far from the punt he started,meaning to go in a straight line for some trees he could see at a greatdistance off, hoping to find something in the shape of game before hehad gone far.
It is very easy to make a straight line on a map, but a difficult featto go direct from one spot to another in a bog.
Dick did not find it out, for he knew it of old, and so troubled himselfvery little as he plodded on under the hot afternoon sun, now on firmground, now making some wide deviation so as to avoid a pool of blackwater. Then there were treacherous morass-like pieces of dark mirethinly covered with a scum-like growth, here green, there bleached inthe June sunshine.
It was always hot walking, and made the worse by the way in which, inspite of all his care, his feet sank in the soft soil. At times heplashed along, having to leap from place to place, and then when the wayseemed so bad that he felt that he must return, it suddenly becamebetter and lured him on.
He panted and perspired, and struggled on, with the gun always ready;but saving a moor-hen or two upon one or other of the pools, and a cootsailing proudly along at the edge of a reed-bed with her little dingyfamily, he saw nothing worthy of a shot.
Once there was a rustle among the reeds, but whatever made it was gonebefore he could see what it was. Once a great heron rose from a shallowplace, offering himself as a mark; but it took Dick some time to get agood view of the grey bird, and when at last he brought the sight of thegun to bear upon it, the heron refused to remain still, and the muzzleof the piece described two or three peculiar circles. When at last itwas brought steadily to bear upon the mark it was about a hundred yardsaway, and the trigger was not pulled.
How long Dick had tramped and struggled on through mire and water andover treacherous ground he did not know, but he did not get one chance;and at last, when he stopped short with a horrible sinking sensation inhis inner boy, the only things which presented themselves as being readyto be shot were some beautiful swallow-tailed butterflies, while, savethat the sun was right before him and going down, the lad had not theslightest idea of where he was.
But he could not stand still, for he was on a soft spot, so he struggledon to where the ground looked more dry, and fortunately for him itproved to be so, and he stood looking round and thinking of going back.
"I wish I had brought something to eat," he said, gazing wistfully inthe direction in which he believed the punt lay.
But it was in vain to wish, so he determined to retrace his steps,fighting against the thought that it would be a difficult task, for toall intents and purposes he had lost all idea of the direction in whichhe had come. It was very hot, though, and the gun was very heavy. Hewas weary too with poling the boat and walking, and but for the romanceof the expedition he would have declared himself fagged out.
As it was, he thought he would have ten minutes' rest before startingback, so picking out a good dry firm place, he laid the gun down, andthen, seeing how comfortable the gun seemed, he lay at full length uponhis back on the soft heather and gazed straight up at the blue sky.
Then his eyes wandered to a cloud of flies, long gnat-like creatures,which were beginning to dance over the reeds, and he lay watching themtill he thought he would get up and be on the move.
Then he thought, as it was so refreshing to be still, he would waitanother five minutes.
So he waited another five minutes, and then he did not get up, but lay,not looking at the cloud of gnats which were dancing now just over hisface as if the tip of his nose were the point from which they streamedupward in the shape of a plume, for Dick Winthorpe was fast asleep.
How long it was Dick did not know, only that it was a great nuisancethat that bull would keep on making such a tremendous noise, bellowingand roaring round and round his bed till it annoyed him so much that hestarted up wide awake and stared.
It was very dark, not a star to be seen; but the bull was bellowing awayin the most peculiar manner, seeming as if he were now high up in theair, and now with his muzzle close to the ground practisingventriloquism.
"Where am I?" said Dick aloud; and then, as the peculiar bellowing noisecame apparently nearer, "Why, it's the butterbump!"
Dick was right, it was the butterbump, as the fen people called thegreat brown bittern, which passed its days in the thickest parts of thebog, and during the darkness rose on high, to circle round and over theunfortunate frogs that were to form its supper, and utter its peculiarbellowing roar.
Dick had never heard it so closely before, and he was half startled bythe weird cry. The fen, that had been so silent in the hot June sun,now seemed to be alive with peculiar whisperings and pipings. The frogswere whistling here, a low soft plaintive whistle, and croaking there,while from all around came splashings and quackings and strange criesthat were startling in the extreme to one just awakened from the depthsof sleep to find himself alone in the darkness, and puzzled by thequestion: How am I to get back?
No; return was impossible--quite impossible, and the knowledge wasforced upon him more and more that he had to make up his mind to passthe night where he was, for to stir meant to go plunge into some bog,perhaps one so deep that his escape with life might be doubtful.
"How stupid I was!" mused Dick. "How hungry I am!" he said aloud."What a tiresome job!"
He looked around, to see darkness closing him in, not a star visible;but the fen all alive with the sounds, which seemed to increase, for abittern was answering the one overhead, and another at a greaterdistance forming himself into a second echo.
"I wonder how long it is since I lay down!" thought Dick.
It might have been four hours--it might have been six or eight. Hecould not tell, only that he was there, and that his mother would be ina horrible state of dread.
This impressed him so strongly that he was about to start off in a vaineffort to find the boat, but his better sense prevailed, and he remainedwhere he was, wondering whether it would be possible to pass the nightlike that, and, in spite of himself, feeling no little dread of theweird sounds which seemed to come nearer and nearer.
Then the feeling of dread increased, for, though he could see nothing,certain noises he heard suggested themselves as being caused by strangecreatures--dwellers in the fen--coming nearer to watch him, and amongthem he fancied that there were huge eels fresh from the black slime,crawling out of the water, and winding themselves like serpents in andout among the rough grass and heath to get at him and fix their strongjaws upon his legs.
Then little four-footed, sharp-teethed creatures appeared to be creepingabout in companies, rushing here and there, while whittricks and ratswere waiting ti
ll he dropped asleep to leap upon him and bite him,tearing out little pieces of his flesh.
His imagination was so active that his face grew wet with horror, till,making an effort over himself, he started right up and angrily stampedhis foot.
"I didn't think I was such a coward," he said half aloud; and then, "Ihope poor mother will not be very much alarmed, and I wish TomTallington was here!"
The wish was so selfishly comic that he laughed and felt better, for nowa new idea came to him.
It was very dark, but the nights were at their shortest now, and itwould be daybreak before three--at least so light that he might ventureto try and regain the boat.
He stood for a while listening to the noises in the fen; the whisperingand chattering, piping and croaking, with the loud splashings andrustlings among the reeds, mingled with the quacking of ducks and thescuttering of the drakes, while every now and then the bittern utteredhis hoarse wild roar.
Then, growing weary, he sat down again, and after a time he must havedropped asleep, for he rose feeling quite startled, and stood staring asa peculiarly soft lambent light shone here and there before him.
It was apparently about fifty yards away, and looked like nothing whichhe had ever seen, for when he had noticed this light before it hadalways been much farther away.
He knew it was the marsh light, but somehow it seemed more weird andstrange now than ever, and as if all the tales he had heard of it weretrue.
For there it was coming and going and gliding up and down, as ifinviting him to follow it, while, as he seemed to feel that this was aninvitation, he shuddered and his brow grew cold and dank, for hebelieved that to follow such a light would be to go direct to his death.
All the old legendary stories crowded into his mind as that light cameand went, and seemed to play here and there for what must have been halfan hour, when it disappeared. But as it passed away he saw another awayto his left, and he was watching this intently when he noticed that farbeyond there was a faint light visible; and feeling that this was thefirst sign of the dawn, he turned to gaze at the will-o'-the-wisp again,and watched it, shuddering as it seemed to approach, growing bolder asit glided away.
"But that was not dawn--that," he said, "that faint light!" It wasgrowing stronger and it was nearer, and more like the rising of the sun,or like--yes, it must be fire again.
Dick's heart leaped, and the chilly feeling of nervous dread and thecoldness of the temperature passed away, to give place to a sense ofexcitement which made his blood dance in his veins and his cheeks flush.
He was not mistaken--he had had too much experience of late. It wasfire, and he asked himself whose turn it was now, and why, after thelong lapse from outrage, there should be another such a scene as that.
It was impossible to tell where the fire was, but it was a bigconflagration evidently, for it was lighting up the sky far more thanwhen he first observed it, but whether it was in the direction of hishome or toward the far end of the fen he could not tell.
He thought once that he might be mistaken, and that it was theforerunner of the rising moon; but he was convinced directly that it wasfire he saw from the way in which it rose and fell and flickered softlyin the sky.
He must have been watching the glow for quite a couple of hours, and itwas evidently paling, and he was hopefully looking for another light--that of day, when it seemed to him that he could hear the splashing ofwater and the rustling of reeds.
The sounds ceased and began again more loudly, and at last they seemedto be coming nearer, but passing him by--somewhere about a hundred yardsaway.
The sounds ceased--began again--ceased--then sounded more loudly; and atlast, with palpitating heart, Dick began to move in the direction of thenoise, for he realised that either there was open water or a canal-likepassage across the bog, which someone was passing through in a boat.
Dick paused again to listen, but there could be no mistake, the soundswere too familiar, and with voice husky with excitement he put his handto his mouth and uttered a loud hail.