CHAPTER XLVIII

EVERY MAN MUST DEFEND HIMSELF

[Illustration: 422.jpg The Bagworthy Water]

It was only right in Jeremy Stickles, and of the simplest common sense,

that he would not tell, before our girls, what the result of his journey

was. But he led me aside in the course of the evening, and told me all

about it; saying that I knew, as well as he did, that it was not woman's

business. This I took, as it was meant, for a gentle caution that Lorna

(whom he had not seen as yet) must not be informed of any of his doings.

Herein I quite agreed with him; not only for his furtherance, but

because I always think that women, of whatever mind, are best when least

they meddle with the things that appertain to men.

Master Stickles complained that the weather had been against him

bitterly, closing all the roads around him; even as it had done with us.

It had taken him eight days, he said, to get from Exeter to Plymouth;

whither he found that most of the troops had been drafted off from

Exeter. When all were told, there was but a battalion of one of the

King's horse regiments, and two companies of foot soldiers; and their

commanders had orders, later than the date of Jeremy's commission, on

no account to quit the southern coast, and march inland. Therefore,

although they would gladly have come for a brush with the celebrated

Doones, it was more than they durst attempt, in the face of their

instructions. However, they spared him a single trooper, as a companion

of the road, and to prove to the justices of the county, and the lord

lieutenant, that he had their approval.

To these authorities Master Stickles now was forced to address himself,

although he would rather have had one trooper than a score from the

very best trained bands. For these trained bands had afforded very good

soldiers, in the time of the civil wars, and for some years afterwards;

but now their discipline was gone; and the younger generation had seen

no real fighting. Each would have his own opinion, and would want to

argue it; and if he were not allowed, he went about his duty in such a

temper as to prove that his own way was the best.

Neither was this the worst of it; for Jeremy made no doubt but what (if

he could only get the militia to turn out in force) he might manage,

with the help of his own men, to force the stronghold of the enemy; but

the truth was that the officers, knowing how hard it would be to collect

their men at that time of the year, and in that state of the weather,

began with one accord to make every possible excuse. And especially

they pressed this point, that Bagworthy was not in their county; the

Devonshire people affirming vehemently that it lay in the shire of

Somerset, and the Somersetshire folk averring, even with imprecations,

that it lay in Devonshire. Now I believe the truth to be that the

boundary of the two counties, as well as of Oare and Brendon parishes,

is defined by the Bagworthy river; so that the disputants on both sides

were both right and wrong.

Upon this, Master Stickles suggested, and as I thought very sensibly,

that the two counties should unite, and equally contribute to the

extirpation of this pest, which shamed and injured them both alike. But

hence arose another difficulty; for the men of Devon said they would

march when Somerset had taken the field; and the sons of Somerset

replied that indeed they were quite ready, but what were their cousins

of Devonshire doing? And so it came to pass that the King's Commissioner

returned without any army whatever; but with promise of two hundred men

when the roads should be more passable. And meanwhile, what were we to

do, abandoned as we were to the mercies of the Doones, with only our own

hands to help us? And herein I grieved at my own folly, in having let

Tom Faggus go, whose wit and courage would have been worth at least half

a dozen men to us. Upon this matter I held long council with my good

friend Stickles; telling him all about Lorna's presence, and what I knew

of her history. He agreed with me that we could not hope to escape an

attack from the outlaws, and the more especially now that they knew

himself to be returned to us. Also he praised me for my forethought

in having threshed out all our corn, and hidden the produce in such a

manner that they were not likely to find it. Furthermore, he recommended

that all the entrances to the house should at once be strengthened,

and a watch must be maintained at night; and he thought it wiser that

I should go (late as it was) to Lynmouth, if a horse could pass the

valley, and fetch every one of his mounted troopers, who might now be

quartered there. Also if any men of courage, though capable only of

handling a pitchfork, could be found in the neighbourhood, I was to try

to summon them. But our district is so thinly peopled, that I had little

faith in this; however my errand was given me, and I set forth upon it;

for John Fry was afraid of the waters.

Knowing how fiercely the floods were out, I resolved to travel the

higher road, by Cosgate and through Countisbury; therefore I swam my

horse through the Lynn, at the ford below our house (where sometimes you

may step across), and thence galloped up and along the hills. I could

see all the inland valleys ribbon'd with broad waters; and in every

winding crook, the banks of snow that fed them; while on my right the

turbid sea was flaked with April showers. But when I descended the hill

towards Lynmouth, I feared that my journey was all in vain.

For the East Lynn (which is our river) was ramping and roaring

frightfully, lashing whole trunks of trees on the rocks, and rending

them, and grinding them. And into it rushed, from the opposite side, a

torrent even madder; upsetting what it came to aid; shattering wave with

boiling billow, and scattering wrath with fury. It was certain death to

attempt the passage: and the little wooden footbridge had been carried

away long ago. And the men I was seeking must be, of course, on the

other side of this deluge, for on my side there was not a single house.

I followed the bank of the flood to the beach, some two or three hundred

yards below; and there had the luck to see Will Watcombe on the opposite

side, caulking an old boat. Though I could not make him hear a word,

from the deafening roar of the torrent, I got him to understand at last

that I wanted to cross over. Upon this he fetched another man, and the

two of them launched a boat; and paddling well out to sea, fetched round

the mouth of the frantic river. The other man proved to be Stickles's

chief mate; and so he went back and fetched his comrades, bringing their

weapons, but leaving their horses behind. As it happened there were

but four of them; however, to have even these was a help; and I started

again at full speed for my home; for the men must follow afoot, and

cross our river high up on the moorland.

This took them a long way round, and the track was rather bad to find,

and the sky already darkening; so that I arrived at Plover's Barrows

more than two hours before them. But they had done a sagacious thing,

which was well worth the delay; for by hoisting their flag upon the

hill, they fetched the two watchmen from the Foreland, and added them to

their number.

It was lucky that I came home so soon; for I found the house in a great

commotion, and all the women trembling. When I asked what the matter

was, Lorna, who seemed the most self-possessed, answered that it was all

her fault, for she alone had frightened them. And this in the following

manner. She had stolen out to the garden towards dusk, to watch some

favourite hyacinths just pushing up, like a baby's teeth, and just

attracting the fatal notice of a great house-snail at night-time. Lorna

at last had discovered the glutton, and was bearing him off in triumph

to the tribunal of the ducks, when she descried two glittering eyes

glaring at her steadfastly, from the elder-bush beyond the stream.

The elder was smoothing its wrinkled leaves, being at least two months

behind time; and among them this calm cruel face appeared; and she knew

it was the face of Carver Doone.

The maiden, although so used to terror (as she told me once before),

lost all presence of mind hereat, and could neither shriek nor fly, but

only gaze, as if bewitched. Then Carver Doone, with his deadly smile,

gloating upon her horror, lifted his long gun, and pointed full at

Lorna's heart. In vain she strove to turn away; fright had stricken her

stiff as stone. With the inborn love of life, she tried to cover the

vital part wherein the winged death must lodge--for she knew Carver's

certain aim--but her hands hung numbed, and heavy; in nothing but her

eyes was life.

With no sign of pity in his face, no quiver of relenting, but a

well-pleased grin at all the charming palsy of his victim, Carver Doone

lowered, inch by inch, the muzzle of his gun. When it pointed to the

ground, between her delicate arched insteps, he pulled the trigger,

and the bullet flung the mould all over her. It was a refinement of

bullying, for which I swore to God that night, upon my knees, in secret,

that I would smite down Carver Doone or else he should smite me down.

Base beast! what largest humanity, or what dreams of divinity, could

make a man put up with this?

My darling (the loveliest, and most harmless, in the world of maidens),

fell away on a bank of grass, and wept at her own cowardice; and

trembled, and wondered where I was; and what I would think of this. Good

God! What could I think of it? She over-rated my slow nature, to admit

the question.

While she leaned there, quite unable yet to save herself, Carver came

to the brink of the flood, which alone was between them; and then he

stroked his jet-black beard, and waited for Lorna to begin. Very likely,

he thought that she would thank him for his kindness to her. But she was

now recovering the power of her nimble limbs; and ready to be off like

hope, and wonder at her own cowardice.

“I have spared you this time,” he said, in his deep calm voice, “only

because it suits my plans; and I never yield to temper. But unless you

come back to-morrow, pure, and with all you took away, and teach me

to destroy that fool, who has destroyed himself for you, your death is

here, your death is here, where it has long been waiting.”

Although his gun was empty, he struck the breech of it with his finger;

and then he turned away, not deigning even once to look back again; and

Lorna saw his giant figure striding across the meadow-land, as if the

Ridds were nobodies, and he the proper owner. Both mother and I were

greatly hurt at hearing of this insolence: for we had owned that meadow,

from the time of the great Alfred; and even when that good king lay in

the Isle of Athelney, he had a Ridd along with him.

Now I spoke to Lorna gently, seeing how much she had been tried; and

I praised her for her courage, in not having run away, when she was so

unable; and my darling was pleased with this, and smiled upon me for

saying it; though she knew right well that, in this matter, my judgment

was not impartial. But you may take this as a general rule, that a woman

likes praise from the man whom she loves, and cannot stop always to

balance it.

Now expecting a sharp attack that night--when Jeremy Stickles the more

expected, after the words of Carver, which seemed to be meant to mislead

us--we prepared a great quantity of knuckles of pork, and a ham in full

cut, and a fillet of hung mutton. For we would almost surrender rather

than keep our garrison hungry. And all our men were exceedingly brave;

and counted their rounds of the house in half-pints.

Before the maidens went to bed, Lorna made a remark which seemed to me a

very clever one, and then I wondered how on earth it had never occurred

to me before. But first she had done a thing which I could not in the

least approve of: for she had gone up to my mother, and thrown herself

into her arms, and begged to be allowed to return to Glen Doone.

“My child, are you unhappy here?” mother asked her, very gently, for she

had begun to regard her now as a daughter of her own.

“Oh, no! Too happy, by far too happy, Mrs. Ridd. I never knew rest or

peace before, or met with real kindness. But I cannot be so ungrateful,

I cannot be so wicked, as to bring you all into deadly peril, for

my sake alone. Let me go: you must not pay this great price for my

happiness.”

“Dear child, we are paying no price at all,” replied my mother,

embracing her; “we are not threatened for your sake only. Ask John,

he will tell you. He knows every bit about politics, and this is a

political matter.”

Dear mother was rather proud in her heart, as well as terribly

frightened, at the importance now accruing to Plover's Barrows farm;

and she often declared that it would be as famous in history as the Rye

House, or the Meal-tub, or even the great black box, in which she was a

firm believer: and even my knowledge of politics could not move her upon

that matter. “Such things had happened before,” she would say, shaking

her head with its wisdom, “and why might they not happen again? Women

would be women, and men would be men, to the end of the chapter; and if

she had been in Lucy Water's place, she would keep it quiet, as she

had done”; and then she would look round, for fear, lest either of her

daughters had heard her; “but now, can you give me any reason, why it

may not have been so? You are so fearfully positive, John: just as men

always are.” “No,” I used to say; “I can give you no reason, why it may

not have been so, mother. But the question is, if it was so, or not;

rather than what it might have been. And, I think, it is pretty good

proof against it, that what nine men of every ten in England would

only too gladly believe, if true, is nevertheless kept dark from them.”

“There you are again, John,” mother would reply, “all about men, and not

a single word about women. If you had any argument at all, you would own

that marriage is a question upon which women are the best judges.” “Oh!”

I would groan in my spirit, and go; leaving my dearest mother quite

sure, that now at last she must have convinced me. But if mother had

known that Jeremy Stickles was working against the black box, and its

issue, I doubt whether he would have fared so well, even though he was

a visitor. However, she knew that something was doing and something of

importance; and she trusted in God for the rest of it. Only she used to

tell me, very seriously, of an evening, “The very least they can give

you, dear John, is a coat of arms. Be sure you take nothing less, dear;

and the farm can well support it.”

But lo! I have left Lorna ever so long, anxious to consult me upon

political matters. She came to me, and her eyes alone asked a hundred

questions, which I rather had answered upon her lips than troubled her

pretty ears with them. Therefore I told her nothing at all, save that

the attack (if any should be) would not be made on her account; and that

if she should hear, by any chance, a trifle of a noise in the night, she

was to wrap the clothes around her, and shut her beautiful eyes again.

On no account, whatever she did, was she to go to the window. She liked

my expression about her eyes, and promised to do the very best she could

and then she crept so very close, that I needs must have her closer; and

with her head on my breast she asked,--

“Can't you keep out of this fight, John?”

“My own one,” I answered, gazing through the long black lashes, at the

depths of radiant love; “I believe there will be nothing: but what there

is I must see out.”

“Shall I tell you what I think, John? It is only a fancy of mine, and

perhaps it is not worth telling.”

“Let us have it, dear, by all means. You know so much about their ways.”

“What I believe is this, John. You know how high the rivers are, higher

than ever they were before, and twice as high, you have told me. I

believe that Glen Doone is flooded, and all the houses under water.”

“You little witch,” I answered; “what a fool I must be not to think

of it! Of course it is: it must be. The torrent from all the Bagworthy

forest, and all the valleys above it, and the great drifts in the glen

itself, never could have outlet down my famous waterslide. The valley

must be under water twenty feet at least. Well, if ever there was a

fool, I am he, for not having thought of it.”

“I remember once before,” said Lorna, reckoning on her fingers, “when

there was heavy rain, all through the autumn and winter, five or it may

be six years ago, the river came down with such a rush that the

water was two feet deep in our rooms, and we all had to camp by the

cliff-edge. But you think that the floods are higher now, I believe I

heard you say, John.”

“I don't think about it, my treasure,” I answered; “you may trust me for

understanding floods, after our work at Tiverton. And I know that the

deluge in all our valleys is such that no living man can remember,

neither will ever behold again. Consider three months of snow, snow,

snow, and a fortnight of rain on the top of it, and all to be drained

in a few days away! And great barricades of ice still in the rivers

blocking them up, and ponding them. You may take my word for it,

Mistress Lorna, that your pretty bower is six feet deep.”

“Well, my bower has served its time”, said Lorna, blushing as she

remembered all that had happened there; “and my bower now is here, John.

But I am so sorry to think of all the poor women flooded out of their

houses and sheltering in the snowdrifts. However, there is one good of

it: they cannot send many men against us, with all this trouble upon

them.”

“You are right,” I replied; “how clever you are! and that is why there

were only three to cut off Master Stickles. And now we shall beat them,

I make no doubt, even if they come at all. And I defy them to fire the

house: the thatch is too wet for burning.”

We sent all the women to bed quite early, except Gwenny Carfax and our

old Betty. These two we allowed to stay up, because they might be useful

to us, if they could keep from quarreling. For my part, I had little

fear, after what Lorna had told me, as to the result of the combat. It

was not likely that the Doones could bring more than eight or ten men

against us, while their homes were in such danger: and to meet these

we had eight good men, including Jeremy, and myself, all well armed and

resolute, besides our three farm-servants, and the parish-clerk, and the

shoemaker. These five could not be trusted much for any valiant conduct,

although they spoke very confidently over their cans of cider. Neither

were their weapons fitted for much execution, unless it were at close

quarters, which they would be likely to avoid. Bill Dadds had a sickle,

Jem Slocombe a flail, the cobbler had borrowed the constable's staff

(for the constable would not attend, because there was no warrant), and

the parish clerk had brought his pitch-pipe, which was enough to break

any man's head. But John Fry, of course, had his blunderbuss, loaded

with tin-tacks and marbles, and more likely to kill the man who

discharged it than any other person: but we knew that John had it only

for show, and to describe its qualities.

Now it was my great desire, and my chiefest hope, to come across Carver

Doone that night, and settle the score between us; not by any shot

in the dark, but by a conflict man to man. As yet, since I came to

full-grown power, I had never met any one whom I could not play teetotum

with: but now at last I had found a man whose strength was not to be

laughed at. I could guess it in his face, I could tell it in his arms, I

could see it in his stride and gait, which more than all the rest betray

the substance of a man. And being so well used to wrestling, and to

judge antagonists, I felt that here (if anywhere) I had found my match.

Therefore I was not content to abide within the house, or go the rounds

with the troopers; but betook myself to the rick yard, knowing that the

Doones were likely to begin their onset there. For they had a pleasant

custom, when they visited farm-houses, of lighting themselves towards

picking up anything they wanted, or stabbing the inhabitants, by first

creating a blaze in the rick yard. And though our ricks were all now of

mere straw (except indeed two of prime clover-hay), and although on

the top they were so wet that no firebrands might hurt them; I was both

unwilling to have them burned, and fearful that they might kindle, if

well roused up with fire upon the windward side.

By the bye, these Doones had got the worst of this pleasant trick

one time. For happening to fire the ricks of a lonely farm called

Yeanworthy, not far above Glenthorne, they approached the house to get

people's goods, and to enjoy their terror. The master of the farm was

lately dead, and had left, inside the clock-case, loaded, the great long

gun, wherewith he had used to sport at the ducks and the geese on the

shore. Now Widow Fisher took out this gun, and not caring much what

became of her (for she had loved her husband dearly), she laid it upon

the window-sill, which looked upon the rick-yard; and she backed up the

butt with a chest of oak drawers, and she opened the window a little

back, and let the muzzle out on the slope. Presently five or six fine

young Doones came dancing a reel (as their manner was) betwixt her and

the flaming rick. Upon which she pulled the trigger with all the force

of her thumb, and a quarter of a pound of duck-shot went out with a

blaze on the dancers. You may suppose what their dancing was, and their

reeling how changed to staggering, and their music none of the sweetest.

One of them fell into the rick, and was burned, and buried in a ditch

next day; but the others were set upon their horses, and carried home

on a path of blood. And strange to say, they never avenged this very

dreadful injury; but having heard that a woman had fired this desperate

shot among them, they said that she ought to be a Doone, and inquired

how old she was.

Now I had not been so very long waiting in our mow-yard, with my best

gun ready, and a big club by me, before a heaviness of sleep began to

creep upon me. The flow of water was in my ears, and in my eyes a hazy

spreading, and upon my brain a closure, as a cobbler sews a vamp up. So

I leaned back in the clover-rick, and the dust of the seed and the smell

came round me, without any trouble; and I dozed about Lorna, just once

or twice, and what she had said about new-mown hay; and then back went

my head, and my chin went up; and if ever a man was blest with slumber,

down it came upon me, and away went I into it.

Now this was very vile of me, and against all good resolutions, even

such as I would have sworn to an hour ago or less. But if you had been

in the water as I had, ay, and had long fight with it, after a good

day's work, and then great anxiety afterwards, and brain-work (which is

not fair for me), and upon that a stout supper, mayhap you would not be

so hard on my sleep; though you felt it your duty to wake me.