'tis not the first face of a predicament that is always the right aspect, and men may, as often as not by holding their peace, come at the heart of the matter, always provided there is naught in the case to make the blood sing. now in a pretty lively turn of life on the road i have met many types, and some of these such characters as you would scarce credit; but 'tis not always that they are conjoined thus in their odd individualities with a stirring episode; and hence i pass them by in these accounts of my career. nevertheless there was in the meeting with sir damon boll that which pleased me mightily, at least in the end. indeed, 'twas a rare piece of chicanery from the outset, what time i left the boar's head in a chaise and two horses of my own for epsom, like any gentleman with an important journey of his own before him. and so in truth i had, for i was to set up for my lord, if you please, with a lackey and all; but the affair, though 'twas humorous beyond fancy, enters not into this adventure. it was enough that the thought tickled me on my road out of southwark,[233] going by camberwell and newington, and i was in a fair good humour as we rocked along the ruts that sharp november evening.
when the postilion was come out by streatham and was for making across the heath, the moon, that was half and bright, struck into the lowering clouds, and the open waste glowed of a sudden swiftness. the window of the chaise was open and the air streamed in, but i could make out little with my peepers because of the blackness. and here there was a savage rocking of the body of the chaise, and a cracking as of a wheel against something. so popped i forth my head and roared to the postilion, cursing him for his clumsiness, and he cursing back at the horses; and between us there was a pretty commotion. for here was a nobleman (save me!) upon his travels with a damned dung-fork of a rascal on whom he might let loose his tongue and be not questioned. that was how i phrased it to myself, being not as wroth as i seemed, but indeed enjoying to feign it; when withdrawing my head, as we were got back again upon the track, i espied a blacker shadow in the blackness about the heath.
it held my eye a moment, for i knew it well enough to be the figure of a man, and then it darted into nearer view; and the light, bettering at the same instant, showed[234] me a fellow with a hat askew on the back of his head, a heavy pistol at the stand-and-deliver, and a face under a dark mask at the chaise's edge.
"hold!" says he loudly to the postilion, and catches at the horse nearest. the frightened fellow pulled in, and says this night-bat, as boldly as you will, and as cheerfully, poking his barker through the window, "now, my good sir, pray do not dally, but hand out forthwith. dalliance, my dear sir, is the spirit of my lady's chamber, not of snapping sharp winter nights like this. disgorge, my buck, disgorge!"
now you will conceive it was an odd situation for galloping dick to be thus waylaid and handled after the manner of his own craft, though this was not the first occasion that it had happened. but to that you will add this, that there was that in his air, as in his voice, and in the very swagger of his challenge, which showed me here was no ordinary tobyman. so says i to myself, silently gazing in his pistol: "what have we here?" and then aloud said i: "sirrah, what do you?" in a lordly tone.
"faith," says he, not lowering his pistol, but speaking in a rollicking way, "be not my words plain, brave knight, or must i make 'em bark? i require of you all that you[235] have in the chaise, barring what i will spare you out of charity, your clothes and cock-hat for the sake of shame."
"oh!" said i, in a hesitating way, "then are you a gentleman of the road, rascal?"
"you honour me to put a name upon me," said he, with an inclination of his head. "for myself, i should desire to go unnamed, so as to escape the perils of the law."
"i will tell you this," i broke out in seeming indignation, "you shall be well hanged—that's your destiny."
"maybe," said he, carelessly. "as well be picked by crows on a gallows as in a ditch. deliver, my lord."
"i ask your indulgence, captain," said i, in another voice; "there is a packet i would fain keep—"
"pish! i must have all or none," he interposed. "yet i am in a mood to indulge you, so be you give me your hand on paper that i took all off you."
this made me perpend, for my wits are sharp, and i began to guess that this was maybe by way of a wager, and that the fool was rattling the dice on his life.
"i will do that," said i, after a pause, "if you will let this document that is important to none but myself remain. i have sixty guineas also."
[236]
"hand 'em over," says he, in a jocose way.
his pistol was still at my head, and i made search for my purse and gave it to him, the which he pocketed without so much as examining it.
"and for this warranty," said he, "i have quill and paper;" whereat i knew that i was upon the right thought. he put a hand into his pocket, but being by now unsuspecting that he had any to deal with save a mild sheep, he paid little heed to his earlier precautions; and the next i had his pistol hand in my clutch. he was taken aback at the first, but struggled gamely, though (lord save us!) he was no match for me. with a twist of the wrist his pistol fell to the road with a dull clank, and presently i had the door of the chaise open and was gripping him in the darkness. and now 'twas my barker that was against his forehead.
"i was mistook," said i, as he came to a pause in his struggles, "and 'tis not the gallows will have you, sure, but this cold barrel o' mine. and so say your prayers."
he uttered a little reckless laugh. "oh, i will spare you them," says he; "doubtless you're in haste to be on."
"come," said i, "off with that mask," and i knocked it clean off his face with the pistol, just as the moon emerged in her full whiteness.
[237]
'twas a young man, well-formed, and of a handsome bearing, that stood before me, and i saw that his features were disfigured by a cynical smile. yet there was in that expression, as i judged, something impulsive and full-hearted that took me. i contemplated him.
"you're no tobyman," said i. "a tobyman would think shame to be took as i took you just now."
for answer he whistled, and then, "good my man, get forward with your job," said he. "i have cast and lost."
"why," said i, lowering my barker, "i know 'twas along of a wager this was done, and so bungled."
he threw me a glance under the moon without offering to run. "how know you?" he asked.
i shrugged my shoulders. "rip me," said i, "when a gentleman of the road takes the road (save he be in liquor) 'tis for a serious purpose, and that's guineas. he walks with a proper gait; he's no come-lightly. but you—" i came to a pause.
"you're wrong," said he, "'twas no wager."
"oh, well," said i "'tis a pity that so fit a youth should go woo the triple beam, and i find it in my heart to give you a chance. what say you? your story for your life."
he thought a moment. "agreed," said he.[238] "'tis no harm and no good to no one. if your ears itch you shall have it."
"then 'tis sealed on that," i replied, and happened to look away a moment from him.
in the moonlight the heath emerged dimly, and i descried near a patch of bushes a waiting figure.
"so," said i, "that is your game, my master. you bring confederates, and accept of my terms to betray me. damme, but i will shoot ye both where ye stand or run."
now, i was broke out very furious, for it seemed to me that i saw the whole purpose of this ambush very clearly, and i raised my pistol as i spoke.
"what's that?" said he, suddenly, and stared at me, and then away to where my eyes had gone. but at that instant the waiting figure took to its heels and ran in a white light, limping as it ran till it vanished swiftly into the darkness.
"by the lord, crookes!" said my tobyman.
"so," said i, not now realising where i was, but feeling cautiously ahead. "and who may crookes be that's such a white-liver?"
"'tis sir damon's servant," said he, and added: "'tis in the tale and the bargain."
"in that case," said i, "let's have the tale[239] and the bargain ere my mind shifts, as it is apt to do of a cold november night."
he shrugged his shoulders. "you have the advantage, and 'twill hurt nor harm none. sir damon boll is uncle and guardian to a young lady who returns me my passion. but he will none of the match, being anxious to dispose of her to a certain lord. this evening i besought him to acquiesce in our betrothal, but he refused.
"'if it be money' said i. ''tis not money,' says he, with his grin. 'if it be place and position,' said i again, but again he interrupted me. ''tis neither,' says he. 'ye're well enough, man, but who weds my niece must prove himself. ye're a young gentleman of the town,' says he. 'when i was young we was wont to be more than that; and, by god! young man,' says he, 'ye shall have her if ye rob a coach or carry stand-and-deliver to a chaise.' 'what mean you?' said i, not knowing what he meant. 'if so be,' said he, speaking more slowly, 'you shall have spirit and temper enough to take all that is within a traveller's chaise this night you have my word you shall have my niece.'"
"well," said i, seeing he paused.
"well, here i am," said he, and laughed discordantly.
"come, 'tis a very proper and romantic[240] comedy," said i. "and why d'ye suppose he gives you this chance?"
he shook his head. "i know not," he said.
"and why d'ye suppose this crookes, sir damon's man, if that be his name, is hanging about?"
he started. "i never thought of that," said he.
"well," said i, deliberately, "it means if i was you, young cockerel, i would think twice ere i put faith in sir damon boll. he hath you in a cleft stick."
"you mean—" he asked anxiously.
"why, are you not took in the act?" i replied; "took with a red hand. and why runs that rogue back to his master? he hath followed you."
"damnation!" says he, starting, and looks at me.
"upon my heart," i said, "ye're a pretty fellow to take to the roads, with no more prudence or care about you than a sucking dove. if i mistake not, down flies this crookes with news of your discomfiture, as he would also have been witness to your success; and presently maybe up comes sir damon to gloat upon you. oh, i have a fondness for such deep, ripe rascals, stap me, i have!"
he stood moodily fiddling with his fingers,[241] a frown on his brow. "well?" said he at last inquiringly, and smiling defiant.
"well," said i, "i think i will have a look at this sir damon, and gads me! if there be not the sound of a vehicle. would ye like another fling at the high toby?"
he looked at me in wonder, and i winked.
"should this be sir damon—"
he whistled. "now, damme," he cried briskly, "ye're the gamest cock that ever crowed out of whitehall."
"well, let's go to meet him and seek what we shall find," i said, for i did not want that the arriving carriage should come up with mine; and so bestowing an order on my wondering fellow; we walked back briskly upon the london road.
the night was still relieved by the pale moon that shone through the naked oaks behind us, and we could perceive the huddle of a chaise separating out of the darkness a score or two of yards away.
"'tis his livery," says my friend, "'tis his coach for sure."
"well, may i perish, but he runs a hazard this night, does this said sir damon," i said with a laugh, and i took him by the arm. "look you," says i, "you were but a bantam, with a bantam's voice yonder. you shrilled too high, damme, for your spurs. if you would[242] venture another main, take heed to one that knows, and keep your eyes straight—as straight as your weapon. with level hands and eyes, rot me! i would be afraid of nothing under heaven save stalking ghosts and ill-willing witches. set on, man, if so you have a mind, and i'll wager you will go through with the adventure."
"gad!" says he, with his laugh, "i will pluck him bare for his pains, and enjoy it. i am your debtor, sir, for this night's topsy-turvy."
just then the chaise rocked into the faint light before us that stood in the darkness of the trees, and he made a step forward, halted as if in doubt, and then dashed at it, shouting in a loud voice to the postilion. but i lay close in my earth, like an old fox, watching of 'em.
well, the chaise was at a stand-still, and there was a hubbub, as you may fancy; for the old gentleman was come out to see a highwayman took, and not to be rumpadded himself. but he was of a stout spirit, and though there was my young gentleman at the window with his barker, and his mask that he had refitted on him, i could descry a white head poked forth and a voice exchanging words sharply.
"deliver!" says my man.
"deliver! i will see thee damned first," says the spirited old bubblyjock.
[243]
"i regret the necessity," says my man, presently, but his barker drew nearer.
"i will have this place scoured for you," said the old boy.
"if you make more ado," says my man, amiably, "i shall be in the sad case of dabbling white hairs red." with that, seeming to recognise the folly of resistance, sir damon sank back in his seat.
"what is't you want?" he asked in another voice.
"'tis very simple," says t'other; "merely all that is in your chaise with you, save what clothes you sit in." and now that the man's head no longer blocked the window he pressed closer in, and at the same instant uttered an exclamation of surprise. and so i daresay did sir damon also, for he must have recognised by that saying with whom he had to deal; the which must have astonished him who came forth to see the young buck laid by the heels. but he gave vent to no sound just then, and 'twas my young gentleman of the toby who spoke.
"i will be content with nothing short of all that is with you, sir," said he, in a gay voice, as of one well content with himself and destiny. "and first, your purse."
well, he must have got that, for says he next, "now, your jewel-case;" and that too[244] came out of the window in the ghost of a hand that was like a woman's for slenderness. "ye're prompt in payment, my dear sir," continues my friend, "for the which i thank ye as an exacting creditor. but you have still something by you."
then comes in sir damon's voice, quite still and cool now. "you have all, sir—you have all. my word spells my honour, unless, indeed, you have changed your courteous intention about my clothes."
"nay, i leave none bare," says he, "in particular to those wild winds. but i see you have company, and fair company too;" at the which, as you may guess, i pricked up my ears and moved forward a step out of the darkness.
"well, sir," says sir damon from the coach, sharply, "would you rob the lady also?"
"no," says he, with a laugh, "only of your company. i trust i am a gallant tobyman, if even upon compulsion. in truth i have no real liking for the business, but was driven to it of necessity. yet while i am in it i must e'en make what i can out of it. and since i must take all that is in the chaise, save yourself, my good sir, i will make bold with the lady if she will forgive me."
hearing that, i could have slapped my thigh in my delight at his wit and quickness,[245] for i began at once to see how matters stood. here was sir damon driving forth with his ward and niece, maybe with the intent that she should publicly witness with her own eyes the wretched plight and humiliation of her lover; and now that lover appears to discomfit her guardian and wrest her triumphantly from his arms. it was an excellent fine ploy and tickled me much; for, damme, 'twas after my own heart.
but when he had spoken sir damon answers nothing for a time, and then seeing, i suppose, that he was beaten all round he says,—
"very well," says he, "i am, as i have assured you, my good scoundrel, a man of my word and honour. so what i have said i have said. you have now your wages, and shall have your reward, though i confess i had not anticipated it. but to-morrow 'tis my turn, for i too have an unexpected card in the game. and so, when the lady is safely alighted in this balmy air and on this cosy heath, at your disposal, i shall be obliged if you will order my man to drive on, so that i may finish this somewhat benighted journey in peace."
this was, you will admit, a dignified surrender, and i could not but see that he was really at the advantage. for though the lad had won his wages and his bride, he[246] was at the mercy of this man, as hard as satan, maybe, or as grim as death. and he would go hang on the beam for this night's work, if so be sir damon desired it, and this, you may conceive, was not a pleasant plight for the young fellow. but, bless you, he had no fears. he had won his bet, and he had handed forth his sweetheart, and was, i doubt not, all in a flurry of passion for the meeting. bah! this love turns men dizzy; it steals their wits more wildly than wine. let be! 'tis well enough in a way, but, rip me, if i would be so rankly stirred. the old cock had the advantage and knew it. he gazed out at the silly pair from his window with hard eyes and expressionless face, and shouted a command to his man, at which the chaise turned and began to move slowly towards london again.
at that instant, seeing how awkward a face things wore, and being of a mind to see the stir through to the end, a notion flashed in my head and i came forward to the couple. miss i could not see, for she was in wraps, and she might have been a scullion-wench for all i could tell. but says i to him,—
"see you, take my coach and drive on to the nag by carshalton and there await me. i will deal with this lord chief justice myself;" and leaving 'em with no more words i ran after the departing chaise as fast as maybe.
[247]
when i had reached it i rapped on the window, and out pops the old gentleman's white head once more.
"another of you?" says he; "this place grows 'em like brambles," and would have discharged a pistol full in my face.
"hold!" said i, "'tis your assistance i want, sir. i believe you have been rumpadded by a tobyman just now. well, i am in a like case, and was bound whilst he took you. but now he is gone off with my chaise, and i beg you will join us in pursuit. sure, sir," seeing nothing on his face but its pale mask, "we be enough, armed as we are, to overtake and bring him to account, especially that he hath with him now, as it seems, some go-lightly. but i cannot without my coach o'ertake them."
he seemed to consider a little, scrutinising me. "well," said he, at last, "you seem a likely man in emergencies. if you are armed, as you say, and have the resolution, i do not know but the plan will fit in with my own. i had another design, but maybe both are admirable, and at least they will not conflict."
so without more ado he invited me into the chaise, and then conceive me sitting in miss's place, the horse's heads turned again for the south, and sir damon and dick ryder chatting agreeably and affably together[248] as they had been sworn friends or long acquaintances.
at least 'twas i that chatted, and he was mostly silent in an amicable enough way, interjecting a question, or commenting with satiric humour, what time we lurched along towards ewell and epsom. but now you will have an inkling of my design when i say that if this old fox was permitted to return straightway to town he would no doubt set the officers on his enemy and have him forthwith lodged in the jug. maybe, thought i to myself, with a little trickery and a little persuasion of my own kind, that could be prevented and the boy have a run for his life at the least. so that was why we were jogging along the epsom road through a dark and miry night on the track (as he thought) of the runaways.
presently, interrupting a tale of mine about jeremy starbottle, says he, bluffly,—
"we seem no nearer, sir. it would look as if your horses were superior to mine."
"why," said i, in answer, "'tis odds they'll keep this road, for the sideways are foul and lead nowhither. moreover, they will not expect to be pursued. we shall fetch 'em presently."
"very well," says he, lying back, "but i beg you will give me a little leave. i was shortened of my nap this afternoon."
[249]
now this was a plain hint, as you see, for me to hold my tongue, but i took no offence, for there was no occasion. "sir," said i, "i am mum. i do not overstay my welcome," and i too lay back.
for some time we proceeded in silence; but presently, the chaise jogging more than usual, he sat up.
"it seems to me," said he, "that we are upon a wild-goose chase, we shall not catch him in this wilderness."
"oh," said i, "he cannot be so far in advance—not he with my nags, i'll warrant."
he looked at me doubtfully in the small light. "very well," he said at last, shortly, "we will try a little longer;" and he peered out upon the night if so be he might determine where we were.
i looked out also, and now we were passing through carshalton, where i had bid the doves assemble for to meet me. but, damme, my business was not yet done, and the coach rolls creaking out of carshalton and on the way to epsom. this seemed to stir the old gentleman again to perplexity, for again he directed a look out of the window, and then another at me. i felt his gaze wander over me from top to boot as if he measured me.
"you have fought abroad," says he at last.
[250]
"not i," says i; and added to that, "there's too many that babble about these foreign wars. deliver us, a good english war is more to my taste, and better fighting too," says i.
"ah!" says he, still coolly inspecting me, as if he cared not whether i saw him or not, "then you will have fought in his majesty's intestine wars?" said he.
"what's that?" said i, turning on him.
"no doubt," said he, suavely, "you have fought, sir, for his majesty king james against the unfortunate duke of monmouth."
"who gave you leave to suppose i have fought at all?" said i, sharply, being irked by his persistence. "i am no fighting man, but one of peace."
"oh," says he, "but i took you for a soldier and a captain-at-arms at least. and indeed i believe you would have furnished material for a good soldier." he surveyed me meditatively. "yes, i'll promise that; good material, sir, sound fighting stock, and no splitting straws or scruples."
"damme," said i, bluntly, "what d'ye mean?"
he sank back in his seat. "i mean no offence," said he, "but i think as 'tis shrewd to-night i will e'en turn about for home."
"nay," said i, masterfully, "you must not do that since we are come so far. let us[251] finish the adventure, sir, and not leave hold of it. 'twould never do. we will be catching of 'em by the heels presently."
he pursed his lips together, as if he whistled under his breath, and there was a pause, while the noise of the chaise drowned all sound about us. but my senses are not sharp for nothing, and next i was aware of a glint of light upon steel, for the moon as we rocked swayed in at the window, and i guessed that he was bringing his pistol from under his cloak.
i pulled forth mine abruptly. "yes," says i, "'tis as well to be prepared, sir. i am glad you are so forward. we may have a fall-to when we encounter, but i'll warrant ye're as good with your barker as i with mine."
"i hope so," said he, without betraying any feeling. "i do earnestly hope so; even, sir, to be a little better would be to my taste. as you say, we may come to an encounter soon, and 'tis as well to be prepared."
now the old buck puzzled me, and i perpended. if he had any suspicion that this was not a genuine pursuit, and i was other than i had feigned to be, why sat he there silent and cool? but if he had no scent of danger what was the significance of his words, which did smell to me of the ironic? it angered me to be so baffled by him and his quiet features; but[252] i did not well see what i might do or say just then, and so kept silence like himself. and indeed 'twas he broke it.
"we must be drawing nigh ewell, so far as i may guess," he said. "would you be good enough to tell me what course you propose when we reach ewell? if i might without impropriety make a humble suggestion, i would advise that we ate some supper and lay there comfortably for the night, to resume this interesting journey doubtless on the morrow, or perhaps the next day."
with that i saw at once how it was, and i gave vent to a little laugh. "why, you shall do as you please, sir," said i, "and that plan will serve me admirably."
"ah!" says he, looking at me, "then maybe there is something amiss with it. suppose we come to an understanding. i think you are too young, and i am too old, to want to die by violence. we both have a taste for life, i take it. where stand we then? we are pursuing a gentleman of the road—"
"pardon me," said i, interrupting, for the time was come now to disclose myself, and i looked to be mightily tickled by the disclosure, "no longer pursuing, but maybe even pursued."
"pursued!" he asked doubtfully.
"well, at least we are some miles ahead of[253] the turtle-doves that are cooing, maybe, somewhere safe and sound behind us."
his eyes never changed; only the thin lips moved a little. "ah!" says he, "the turtle-doves! i had some notion—but who then are you, my dear sir?"
"i am but a philosophic observer," said i, airily. "'tis my business to look on and smile. i take no part in the rough acts of fortune."
"pardon me," said he, suavely, "but i think you are too modest, captain."
"captain!" said i, sharply.
"well, well, i had forgot you were no soldier. you have the air of a soldier, and the makings, as i have remarked. but, sir, let me tell you, you are too modest. this journey, for example—"
"oh, that was my whim," said i. "i interposed out of a benevolent heart, for to serve two young folks fond of billing and to make an illustrious acquaintance for myself."
he bowed in his corner. "i trust you will not make a more illustrious acquaintance still," he said dryly.
"why," said i, for i knew what he meant, "you forget that at your invitation i am here in pursuit of our common enemy."
"true," he said, considering. "it has a smooth face upon it. i perceive you, sir, to be a gentleman of your wits."
[254]
now 'twas my turn to bow, and indeed he was not wrong, for it has ever been my good fortune to find a way out of a difficulty when others would stand agape, like oafs and asses. but he went on, in his still voice: "but now that i see our friend, the common enemy, as you put it, enjoyed a confederate, it appears i must reconsider the circumstances. in fine, his wager fails—"
"i am no confederate," i broke in.
"and thus there is no necessity that he receive the penalty which i had designed as a wedding-present for him," he finished, not appearing to heed me.
"sir damon, i have told you that i am but an onlooker," said i.
he elevated his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.
"rip me," said i, angrily, "i never clapped eyes on the fellow till the quarter-of-an-hour ere you came up, and i will be damned if i should tick him off from adam did i see him again."
"you perceive that you are rehabilitating the penalty," he remarked dryly, and i could see he did not credit me, which made me angrier.
"by the lord," said i, "i have the honour to tell ye that the young muckworm rumpadded me in my chaise just as you were[255] come up—damme, he did, if it were not that i turned his barkers on him."
sir damon eyed me and then all of a sudden broke out into soft laughter, as if he were greatly tickled.
"is't so?" said he. "the lord love him for a simpleton! faith, i could forgive—" he chuckled quietly, and then looked at me again, still smiling.
"you know, sir, what penalty menaces them that abduct or hold a ward from her guardian?"
"'tis a guardian i have abducted from his ward," said i.
he laughed quietly. "very well," said he, "let us leave it at that." and then, "you know, sir, what a fool the fool is?"
"he is no tobyman," said i.
"'tis commensurate with his life in general," said sir damon, easily. "he is born tom-fool and has two handsome, dancing eyes." he paused. "i will not maintain," says he next, "that for happiness wisdom is necessary, or even adequate. i have not found it so myself, nor perhaps you, friend—captain?"
"in that case," says i, "repay a fool with his folly, which is marriage."
"then we are agreed," said he, genially. "i too am a bachelor. and now that we are agreed on one thing, captain, mr—" he hesitated.
[256]
"ryder," said i.
"mr ryder," said he, "let us be agreed all along the line. if i forego the penalty—"
"i will treat your worship to as damnable a fine supper and bottle as was ever served in england," i interrupted, "and we will drink to the turtles at carshalton."
"carshalton," he says reflectively. "i had an idea 'twas carshalton, but your pistol was persuasive."
"well, sir," said i, "here is ewell, and in a tavern that i know we shall be hospitably received and used this foul night."
"good," says he, preparing to alight as the chaise came to a stop, "and pray bear in mind, mr ryder, that i am penniless and homeless."
"damme," said i, heartily, "ye're welcome to all that's mine, and that's not beggary; and, damme, while i can keep such company i envy not the turtle with his mate at carshalton."
he was now in the road, and he turned. "nor i, ryder, nor i," he said pleasantly.
