CHAPTER LXX

COMPELLED TO VOLUNTEER

[Illustration: 654.jpg Illustrated Capital]

There had been some trouble in our own home during the previous autumn,

while yet I was in London. For certain noted fugitives from the army

of King Monmouth (which he himself had deserted, in a low and currish

manner), having failed to obtain free shipment from the coast near

Watersmouth, had returned into the wilds of Exmoor, trusting to

lurk, and be comforted among the common people. Neither were they

disappointed, for a certain length of time; nor in the end was their

disappointment caused by fault on our part. Major Wade was one of them;

an active and well-meaning man; but prone to fail in courage, upon

lasting trial; although in a moment ready. Squire John Whichehalse (not

the baron) and Parson Powell* caught him (two or three months before my

return) in Farley farmhouse, near Brendon. He had been up at our house

several times; and Lizzie thought a great deal of him. And well I know

that if at that time I had been in the neighbourhood, he should not have

been taken so easily.

* Not our parson Bowden, nor any more a friend of his. Our

Parson Bowden never had naught whatever to do with it; and

never smoked a pipe with Parson Powell after it.--J.R.

John Birch, the farmer who had sheltered him, was so fearful of

punishment, that he hanged himself, in a few days' time, and even before

he was apprehended. But nothing was done to Grace Howe, of Bridgeball,

who had been Wade's greatest comforter; neither was anything done to us;

although Eliza had added greatly to mother's alarm and danger by falling

upon Rector Powell, and most soundly rating him for his meanness,

and his cruelty, and cowardice, as she called it, in setting men

with firearms upon a poor helpless fugitive, and robbing all our

neighbourhood of its fame for hospitality. However, by means of Sergeant

Bloxham, and his good report of us, as well as by virtue of Wade's

confession (which proved of use to the Government) my mother escaped all

penalties.

It is likely enough that good folk will think it hard upon our

neighbourhood to be threatened, and sometimes heavily punished, for

kindness and humanity; and yet to be left to help ourselves against

tyranny, and base rapine. And now at last our gorge was risen, and

our hearts in tumult. We had borne our troubles long, as a wise and

wholesome chastisement; quite content to have some few things of our own

unmeddled with. But what could a man dare to call his own, or what right

could he have to wish for it, while he left his wife and children at the

pleasure of any stranger?

The people came flocking all around me, at the blacksmith's forge, and

the Brendon alehouse; and I could scarce come out of church, but they

got me among the tombstones. They all agreed that I was bound to take

command and management. I bade them go to the magistrates, but they

said they had been too often. Then I told them that I had no wits for

ordering of an armament, although I could find fault enough with the one

which had not succeeded. But they would hearken to none of this.

All they said was “Try to lead us; and we will try not to run away.”

This seemed to me to be common sense, and good stuff, instead of mere

bragging; moreover, I myself was moved by the bitter wrongs of Margery,

having known her at the Sunday-school, ere ever I went to Tiverton;

and having in those days, serious thoughts of making her my

sweetheart; although she was three years my elder. But now I felt this

difficulty--the Doones had behaved very well to our farm, and to mother,

and all of us, while I was away in London. Therefore, would it not be

shabby, and mean, for me to attack them now?

Yet being pressed still harder and harder, as day by day the excitement

grew (with more and more talking over it), and no one else coming forward

to undertake the business, I agreed at last to this; that if the Doones,

upon fair challenge, would not endeavour to make amends by giving up

Mistress Margery, as well as the man who had slain the babe, then I

would lead the expedition, and do my best to subdue them. All our men

were content with this, being thoroughly well assured from experience,

that the haughty robbers would only shoot any man who durst approach

them with such proposal.

And then arose a difficult question--who was to take the risk of making

overtures so unpleasant? I waited for the rest to offer; and as none was

ready, the burden fell on me, and seemed to be of my own inviting. Hence

I undertook the task, sooner than reason about it; for to give the cause

of everything is worse than to go through with it.

It may have been three of the afternoon, when leaving my witnesses

behind (for they preferred the background) I appeared with our Lizzie's

white handkerchief upon a kidney-bean stick, at the entrance to the

robbers' dwelling. Scarce knowing what might come of it, I had taken the

wise precaution of fastening a Bible over my heart, and another across

my spinal column, in case of having to run away, with rude men shooting

after me. For my mother said that the Word of God would stop a two-inch

bullet, with three ounces of powder behind it. Now I took no weapons,

save those of the Spirit, for fear of being misunderstood. But I could

not bring myself to think that any of honourable birth would take

advantage of an unarmed man coming in guise of peace to them.

And this conclusion of mine held good, at least for a certain length of

time; inasmuch as two decent Doones appeared, and hearing of my purpose,

offered, without violence, to go and fetch the Captain; if I would stop

where I was, and not begin to spy about anything. To this, of course,

I agreed at once; for I wanted no more spying, because I had thorough

knowledge of all ins and outs already. Therefore, I stood waiting

steadily, with one hand in my pocket feeling a sample of corn for

market; and the other against the rock, while I wondered to see it so

brown already.

Those men came back in a little while, with a sharp short message that

Captain Carver would come out and speak to me by-and-by, when his pipe

was finished. Accordingly, I waited long, and we talked about the signs

of bloom for the coming apple season, and the rain that had fallen last

Wednesday night, and the principal dearth of Devonshire, that it will

not grow many cowslips--which we quite agreed to be the prettiest of

spring flowers; and all the time I was wondering how many black and

deadly deeds these two innocent youths had committed, even since last

Christmas.

At length, a heavy and haughty step sounded along the stone roof of the

way; and then the great Carver Doone drew up, and looked at me rather

scornfully. Not with any spoken scorn, nor flash of strong contumely;

but with that air of thinking little, and praying not to be troubled,

which always vexes a man who feels that he ought not to be despised so,

and yet knows not how to help it.

“What is it you want, young man?” he asked, as if he had never seen me

before.

In spite of that strong loathing which I always felt at sight of him,

I commanded my temper moderately, and told him that I was come for his

good, and that of his worshipful company, far more than for my own.

That a general feeling of indignation had arisen among us at the recent

behaviour of certain young men, for which he might not be answerable,

and for which we would not condemn him, without knowing the rights of

the question. But I begged him clearly to understand that a vile and

inhuman wrong had been done, and such as we could not put up with; but

that if he would make what amends he could by restoring the poor woman,

and giving up that odious brute who had slain the harmless infant, we

would take no further motion; and things should go on as usual. As I put

this in the fewest words that would meet my purpose, I was grieved to

see a disdainful smile spread on his sallow countenance. Then he made me

a bow of mock courtesy, and replied as follows,--

[Illustration: 657.jpg Disdainful smile]

“Sir John, your new honours have turned your poor head, as might have

been expected. We are not in the habit of deserting anything that

belongs to us; far less our sacred relatives. The insolence of your

demand well-nigh outdoes the ingratitude. If there be a man upon Exmoor

who has grossly ill-used us, kidnapped our young women, and slain half

a dozen of our young men, you are that outrageous rogue, Sir John. And

after all this, how have we behaved? We have laid no hand upon your

farm, we have not carried off your women, we have even allowed you to

take our Queen, by creeping and crawling treachery; and we have given

you leave of absence to help your cousin the highwayman, and to come

home with a title. And now, how do you requite us? By inflaming the

boorish indignation at a little frolic of our young men; and by

coming with insolent demands, to yield to which would ruin us. Ah, you

ungrateful viper!”

As he turned away in sorrow from me, shaking his head at my badness, I

became so overcome (never having been quite assured, even by people's

praises, about my own goodness); moreover, the light which he threw upon

things differed so greatly from my own, that, in a word--not to be too

long--I feared that I was a villain. And with many bitter pangs--for

I have bad things to repent of--I began at my leisure to ask myself

whether or not this bill of indictment against John Ridd was true. Some

of it I knew to be (however much I condemned myself) altogether out of

reason; for instance, about my going away with Lorna very quietly, over

the snow, and to save my love from being starved away from me. In this

there was no creeping neither crawling treachery; for all was done with

sliding; and yet I was so out of training for being charged by other

people beyond mine own conscience, that Carver Doone's harsh words came

on me, like prickly spinach sown with raking. Therefore I replied, and

said,--

“It is true that I owe you gratitude, sir, for a certain time of

forbearance; and it is to prove my gratitude that I am come here now. I

do not think that my evil deeds can be set against your own; although I

cannot speak flowingly upon my good deeds as you can. I took your Queen

because you starved her, having stolen her long before, and killed her

mother and brother. This is not for me to dwell upon now; any more than

I would say much about your murdering of my father. But how the balance

hangs between us, God knows better than thou or I, thou low miscreant,

Carver Doone.”

I had worked myself up, as I always do, in the manner of heavy men;

growing hot like an ill-washered wheel revolving, though I start with

a cool axle; and I felt ashamed of myself for heat, and ready to ask

pardon. But Carver Doone regarded me with a noble and fearless grandeur.

“I have given thee thy choice, John Ridd,” he said in a lofty manner,

which made me drop away under him; “I always wish to do my best with the

worst people who come near me. And of all I have ever met with thou art

the very worst, Sir John, and the most dishonest.”

Now after all my labouring to pay every man to a penny, and to allow the

women over, when among the couch-grass (which is a sad thing for their

gowns), to be charged like this, I say, so amazed me that I stood, with

my legs quite open, and ready for an earthquake. And the scornful way

in which he said “Sir John,” went to my very heart, reminding me of my

littleness. But seeing no use in bandying words, nay, rather the chance

of mischief, I did my best to look calmly at him, and to say with a

quiet voice, “Farewell, Carver Doone, this time, our day of reckoning is

nigh.”

“Thou fool, it is come,” he cried, leaping aside into the niche of rock

by the doorway; “Fire!”

Save for the quickness of spring, and readiness, learned in many a

wrestling bout, that knavish trick must have ended me; but scarce was

the word “fire!” out of his mouth ere I was out of fire, by a single

bound behind the rocky pillar of the opening. In this jump I was so

brisk, at impulse of the love of life (for I saw the muzzles set upon

me from the darkness of the cavern), that the men who had trained their

guns upon me with goodwill and daintiness, could not check their fingers

crooked upon the heavy triggers; and the volley sang with a roar behind

it, down the avenue of crags.

[Illustration: 660.jpg Volley sang with a roar]

With one thing and another, and most of all the treachery of this

dastard scheme, I was so amazed that I turned and ran, at the very top

of my speed, away from these vile fellows; and luckily for me, they

had not another charge to send after me. And thus by good fortune, I

escaped; but with a bitter heart, and mind at their treacherous usage.

Without any further hesitation; I agreed to take command of the honest

men who were burning to punish, ay and destroy, those outlaws, as now

beyond all bearing. One condition, however, I made, namely, that the

Counsellor should be spared if possible; not because he was less a

villain than any of the others, but that he seemed less violent; and

above all, had been good to Annie. And I found hard work to make them

listen to my wish upon this point; for of all the Doones, Sir Counsellor

had made himself most hated, by his love of law and reason.

We arranged that all our men should come and fall into order with pike

and musket, over against our dung-hill, and we settled early in the day,

that their wives might come and look at them. For most of these men had

good wives; quite different from sweethearts, such as the militia had;

women indeed who could hold to a man, and see to him, and bury him--if

his luck were evil--and perhaps have no one afterwards. And all these

women pressed their rights upon their precious husbands, and brought so

many children with them, and made such a fuss, and hugging, and racing

after little legs, that our farm-yard might be taken for an out-door

school for babies rather than a review ground.

I myself was to and fro among the children continually; for if I love

anything in the world, foremost I love children. They warm, and yet they

cool our hearts, as we think of what we were, and what in young clothes

we hoped to be; and how many things have come across. And to see our

motives moving in the little things that know not what their aim or

object is, must almost or ought at least, to lead us home, and soften

us. For either end of life is home; both source and issue being God.

Nevertheless, I must confess that the children were a plague sometimes.

They never could have enough of me--being a hundred to one, you might

say--but I had more than enough of them; and yet was not contented.

For they had so many ways of talking, and of tugging at my hair, and

of sitting upon my neck (not even two with their legs alike), and they

forced me to jump so vehemently, seeming to court the peril of my coming

down neck and crop with them, and urging me still to go faster, however

fast I might go with them; I assure you that they were sometimes so hard

and tyrannical over me, that I might almost as well have been among the

very Doones themselves.

Nevertheless, the way in which the children made me useful proved also

of some use to me; for their mothers were so pleased by the exertions of

the “great Gee-gee”--as all the small ones entitled me--that they gave

me unlimited power and authority over their husbands; moreover, they did

their utmost among their relatives round about, to fetch recruits

for our little band. And by such means, several of the yeomanry from

Barnstaple, and from Tiverton, were added to our number; and inasmuch

as these were armed with heavy swords, and short carabines, their

appearance was truly formidable.

Tom Faggus also joined us heartily, being now quite healed of his

wound, except at times when the wind was easterly. He was made second in

command to me; and I would gladly have had him first, as more fertile

in expedients; but he declined such rank on the plea that I knew most

of the seat of war; besides that I might be held in some measure to draw

authority from the King. Also Uncle Ben came over to help us with his

advice and presence, as well as with a band of stout warehousemen, whom

he brought from Dulverton. For he had never forgiven the old outrage put

upon him; and though it had been to his interest to keep quiet during

the last attack, under Commander Stickles--for the sake of his secret

gold mine--yet now he was in a position to give full vent to his

feelings. For he and his partners when fully-assured of the value of

their diggings, had obtained from the Crown a licence to adventure in

search of minerals, by payment of a heavy fine and a yearly royalty.

Therefore they had now no longer any cause for secrecy, neither for

dread of the outlaws; having so added to their force as to be a match

for them. And although Uncle Ben was not the man to keep his miners idle

an hour more than might be helped, he promised that when we had fixed

the moment for an assault on the valley, a score of them should come

to aid us, headed by Simon Carfax, and armed with the guns which they

always kept for the protection of their gold.

[Illustration: 663.jpg Having pipes and schnapps]

Now whether it were Uncle Ben, or whether it were Tom Faggus or even my

own self--for all three of us claimed the sole honour--is more than I

think fair to settle without allowing them a voice. But at any rate, a

clever thing was devised among us; and perhaps it would be the fairest

thing to say that this bright stratagem (worthy of the great Duke

himself) was contributed, little by little, among the entire three of

us, all having pipes, and schnapps-and-water, in the chimney-corner.

However, the world, which always judges according to reputation, vowed

that so fine a stroke of war could only come from a highwayman; and so

Tom Faggus got all the honour, at less perhaps than a third of the cost.

Not to attempt to rob him of it--for robbers, more than any other,

contend for rights of property--let me try to describe this grand

artifice. It was known that the Doones were fond of money, as well as

strong drink, and other things; and more especially fond of gold, when

they could get it pure and fine. Therefore it was agreed that in this

way we should tempt them; for we knew that they looked with ridicule

upon our rustic preparations; after repulsing King's troopers, and the

militia of two counties, was it likely that they should yield their

fortress to a set of ploughboys? We, for our part, felt of course,

the power of this reasoning, and that where regular troops had failed,

half-armed countrymen must fail, except by superior judgment and harmony

of action. Though perhaps the militia would have sufficed, if they had

only fought against the foe, instead of against each other. From these

things we took warning; having failed through over-confidence, was it

not possible now to make the enemy fail through the selfsame cause?

Hence, what we devised was this; to delude from home a part of the

robbers, and fall by surprise on the other part. We caused it to be

spread abroad that a large heap of gold was now collected at the mine

of the Wizard's Slough. And when this rumour must have reached them,

through women who came to and fro, as some entirely faithful to them

were allowed to do, we sent Captain Simon Carfax, the father of little

Gwenny, to demand an interview with the Counsellor, by night, and as it

were secretly. Then he was to set forth a list of imaginary grievances

against the owners of the mine; and to offer partly through resentment,

partly through the hope of gain, to betray into their hands, upon the

Friday night, by far the greatest weight of gold as yet sent up for

refining. He was to have one quarter part, and they to take the residue.

But inasmuch as the convoy across the moors, under his command, would

be strong, and strongly armed, the Doones must be sure to send not less

than a score of men, if possible. He himself, at a place agreed upon,

and fit for an ambuscade, would call a halt, and contrive in the

darkness to pour a little water into the priming of his company's guns.

It cost us some trouble and a great deal of money to bring the sturdy

Cornishman into this deceitful part; and perhaps he never would have

consented but for his obligation to me, and the wrongs (as he said) of

his daughter. However, as he was the man for the task, both from his

coolness and courage, and being known to have charge of the mine, I

pressed him, until he undertook to tell all the lies we required.

And right well he did it too, having once made up his mind to it; and

perceiving that his own interests called for the total destruction of

the robbers.

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