Peregrine's Progress Read online

  CHAPTER X

  THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SAME

  The storm had passed and I remember the moon was shining as, turningour backs upon the silent inn of the "Jolly Waggoner," we made offalong the road at a good, sharp pace. And now, what with the stillnessof the night and the strange happenings of the last few hours and thewild figure of the highwayman who seemed even more grim and terrifyingby moonlight, my overwrought emotions brought on me a nausea of horrorand faintness so that I stumbled more than once, whereupon mycompanion, tightening his grip, dragged me on, cursing me heartily; sothat, contrasting his brutality with my aunt Julia's tender, lovingcare and my desperate plight with the luxurious security of home, Ifelt all at once the hot smart of tears and so fell to a silentpassion of grief and yearning.

  Thus we tramped on some while, the highwayman and I, until, havingmastered this weakness somewhat, I ventured to steal a glance at himand immediately forgot my own grief in stark wonder and amaze tobehold him weeping also, for upon his scarred cheek the moon showed methe gleam of tears, and even as I stared he rubbed at his eyes withhairy knuckle, sniffed and cursed softly. So great was my astonishmentthat I stopped to stare at him, whereupon he stopped to scowl at me.

  "Well?" he enquired gruffly. "An' what now?"

  "You--can shed tears also, then?" said I.

  "Well, an' why not?" he demanded. "Can't a cove grieve now an' then ifhe's a mind to?"

  "But you're a highwayman!"

  "Which seein' you say so, I'll not deny," said he. "So I'll troubleyou for your purse an' also your ticker--an' sharp's the word!" Andspeaking, he whipped a pistol beneath my chin, whereupon I deliveredup the articles named as quickly as my consternation would allow. "Andnow," said he, pocketing my erstwhile property and seizing my armagain, "come on, friend, an' let this be a warnin' never to disturb a'ighwayman wot grieves."

  "Why do you grieve?"

  "For my Chloe!"

  "Your wife?"

  "Wife--no! Never 'ad a wife--never shall. There's no woman breathin'could ekal my Chloe for love an' faithfulness--used to nibble my 'air,she did, poor lass!"

  "Nibble your hair?" I repeated. "Pray who was she?"

  "My mare, for sure--my pretty mare as 'adn't 'er ekal for speed norwind--my mare as they Bow Street dogs shot an' left to bleed 'er lifeout in the mud an' be damned to 'em."

  "Then the tale of your wife and babies weeping for you was untrue?"

  "Every word of it, friend. An' what then? A man's apt to say anythingto save 'is neck--now ain't 'e? Wouldn't you?"

  Now at this I was silent and we walked for a while with never a word.

  "And your mother?" I questioned at last. "Your mother praying foryou--was that also untrue?"

  "My mother," said he, lifting his face to the radiant moon, "my motherdied three years ago--on her knees--prayin' for me--an' it's likeenough she's on 'er knees afore th' Throne a-prayin' for me this werryminute."

  "And yet you are a--highwayman?"

  "Why, friend, 'tis in the family, y' see. My father was one afore mean' uncommon successful--much looked up to in 'is perfession, though alittle too quick o' th' trigger finger--but 'e was took at last, 'ungat Tyburn an' gibbeted on Blackheath. They took me to see 'im in 'ischains, an' bein' only a little lad, I cried all the way back 'ome tomy mother an' found 'er a-cryin' too. But because 'e'd been so famousin 'is perfession they gibbeted 'im very 'igh, an' so, as folk 'adlooked up to 'im in life they did the same in death."

  "Yours is a very evil, dangerous life," said I, after a while.

  "Evil?" he repeated. "Well, life mostly is evil if ye come to think onit. An' as for danger--'t's so-so--three times shot, six times in jailan' many a rousin' gallop wi' the hue an' cry behind. But arter all'tis my perfession an' there's worse, so what I am I'll be."

  "And will you let your mother pray in vain?"

  "In vain," he repeated, "in vain? Why, blast the Pope, hasn't shesaved me from bein' scragged many a time--didn't she save me t'night?"

  "Doesn't she pray rather that you may turn honest?"

  "Honest!" quoth he, spitting. "Let them be honest as can! An' look'ee, my lad, I'll tell ye what--you leave my dead mother alone or 'twill be the worse for ye."

  Having uttered which threat he strode on, scowling and snorting, nowand then, in a very disturbing manner, so that I ventured no furtherremark and we walked a great way in silence until, suddenly venting asnort fiercer and louder then ever, he spoke:

  "Honest!" he ejaculated. "Honest--why, curse your carkis, who are youto talk o' honesty? d'ye know as you're liable to be took by any o'these honest uns--took an' appre'ended as my accomplice afore an'arter the fact--d'ye know that?"

  "God help me!" I ejaculated, in agonised dismay. "Oh, heaven help me!"

  "Let's 'ope so!" he nodded grimly. "Meantime, I intend to do a bit forye that way meself--seein' as you 'elped me t'night wi' that cursedknot. I'd managed 'em all but one an' that were out o' reach--sobecause o' that theer knot an' my good mother, I'm a-goin' to--do thebest I can for ye."

  "How--when--what do you mean?" I questioned eagerly.

  "Never you mind, only I am--an' no man can say honester or fairer, an'I'm a-goin' t' do my best for ye because, bein' the son o' my blessedmother, I'm that tender-'earted that, though I'm th' son o' my feytherI've knowed myself to drop a tear in the very act o' business. Shewere an' old lady in a pair-'oss phaeton wi' plenty o' sparklers an'nice white hair: a rosy old creetur, comfortably plump andround--'specially in front. 'O Mr. 'ighwayman!' says she, weepin'doleful as she tipped me 'er purse an' the shiners, ''ow could ye doit?' 'Ma'm,' I says, wipin' my eyes wi' my pistol--and--'ma'm, I don'tknow--but do it I must!' An' I rode away quite down-'earted." Here heturned to regard me with his wry smile.

  Thus we held on, by field paths and narrow muddy tracks until the moonwas down and I was stumbling with weariness. At last, my strengthalmost spent, we entered a wood, a dismal place where a mournful windstirred, where trees dripped upon me and wet leaves brushed my facelike ghostly fingers, while rain-sodden underbrush and bracken clungabout my wearied limbs. Through this clammy dreariness I followed mytireless companion until suddenly his dim form vanished and I wasgroping amid damp leaves; but through this dense thicket came his handto seize and drag me on until I found myself in a place of utterdarkness.

  "Stand still!" he commanded.

  A moment after I heard him strike flint and steel and presently helighted a candle-end by whose welcome beam I saw we stood in a roomycave. And an evil place I thought it, full of unexpected corners,littered with all manner of odds and ends and divers misshapenbundles. Having set down the candle, the highwayman drew a dingyblanket before the cave mouth and turned to scowl at me, eyeing myshrinking person over from dripping hat to sodden boots; and wellmight I shrink, for surely few waking eyes have beheld such a wild andterrifying vision as he presented, his battered face, his garmentsmired and torn, his hands hidden in the pockets of his riding-coat.

  "Tyburn Tree!" said he suddenly. "The nubbing cheat! 'Tis there I'mlike to go one o' these days an' all along o' my kind 'eart--with acurse on't. There were only three men in this 'ard world as knew o'this 'ere refuge, an' Ben Purvis was shot three year ago an' poor NickScrope swings a-top o' River Hill--which left only me. An' now 'ere'syou--curse on my kind 'eart, says I!"

  "Indeed--oh, indeed you may trust me--"

  "W'y, there it is--I must trust you, blast my kind 'eart, I says! Butlook now, my cove, this here cave being as ye might say the secoor'aven of a pore soul as the world don't love--if you should ever peachto a nark or speak a word of it to the queer coves, why then this poresoul will come a-seekin' till you're found an' blow your danged faceoff."

  Hereupon I broke into such fervent protestations of secrecy as seemedto satisfy him, for he turned, and from a roughly constructed cupboardtook a black bottle and two mugs; having filled the mugs he passed oneto me and, raising the other to his lips, nodded:

  "Happy days, pal!" said he; and so we drank together. Th
e potentspirit warmed and comforted me despite the misery of wet boots anddamp clothes, and seated on a box I was already half-asleep when hisgrip on my shoulder roused me and, starting up, I saw he had undoneone of the bundles and spread the contents before me on the floor,namely: a rough jacket, cord breeches, woollen stockings and a pair ofstout, clumsy shoes. "Get 'em on!" he commanded. So because I needsmust, I obeyed; and though these rough garments fitted me but ill, Ifound them warm and comfortable enough.

  "You'll do!" he nodded. "Roll ye'self in the mud an' your ownmother'll never know ye. An' now--off wi' you!"

  "Do you mean--I must go?" said I, aghast and shivering at therecollection of the dreary wilderness outside.

  "Aye, I do so!" quoth he, seating himself on the small barrel thatserved him as a chair.

  "And will you send me away destitute--without a penny?"

  At this he was silent awhile, head bowed as one in profound thought,then groping in his capacious pocket, he at last drew forth my purse,stared at it, weighed it on his palm and suddenly thrust it into myhand; then as I stood amazed beyond speech, he took out my watch.

  "Gold!" he muttered, as if to himself. "A gold tattler as would bringme--take it an' be damned!" saying which he thrust it savagely uponme.

  "This--this is generous--" I began.

  "Norra word!" he growled. "They said my feyther was a rogue an' hangedhim according, but my mother was a saint as went back to heaven, so ifyou must thank anybody, thank 'er memory. An' now off wi' ye, lestminding my feyther, I take 'em back again."

  Hereupon I made haste to be gone, but reaching the blanket at the cavemouth, I turned and came back again.

  "Good-bye, Galloping Jerry!" said I, and held out my hand.

  Now at this he drew in his breath sharply and sat scowling at myoutstretched hand as though it had been something very rare andcurious; at last he raised his keen eyes to my face in quick, strangescrutiny.

  "Why, Lord love my eyes!" he exclaimed, like one greatly amazed, "Lordlove my eyes and limbs!" Then, all at once, he took my hand, grippingit very hard, and held it thus a long moment, loosing it as suddenly;and so I turned and, lifting the blanket, went out into the drearydesolation of the wood.

  On the misery of this night's wanderings I will not dwell; let itsuffice to say that, sick and reeling with weariness and lack ofsleep, I came at sunrise upon a barn into which I crept and here, withno better couch than a pile of hay, I was thankful to stretch myaching body, and so fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.