Фредерик Марриет
The Children of the New Forest
Alice and Edith, who were much surprised at the new visitor and the way in which he had been caught, hastened to get some gruel ready for him. As soon as it was ready, they gave it to the boy, who then fell back on the bed with exhaustion, and was soon in a sound sleep. He slept soundly all that night; and the next morning, when he awoke, he appeared much better, although very hungry. This last complaint was easy to remedy, and then the lad got up, and walked into the sitting-room.
"What's your name?" said Humphrey to the lad.
"Pablo," replied the lad.
"Can you speak English?"
"Yes, little," replied he.
"How did you happen to fall into the pit?"
"Not see hole."
"Are you a gipsy?"
"Yes, gitano—same thing."
Humphrey put a great many more questions to the lad, and elicited from him, in his imperfect English, the following particulars:
That he was in company with several others of his race, going down to the sea-coast on one of their usual migrations, and that they had pitched their tents not far from the pitfall. That during the night he had gone out to set some snares for rabbits, and going back to the tents, it being quite dark, he had fallen into the hole; that he had remained there three days and nights, having in vain attempted to get out. His mother was with the party of gipsies to which he belonged, but he had no father. He did not know where to follow the gang, as they had not said where they were going, farther than to the sea-coast. That it was no use looking for them; and that he did not care much about leaving them, as he was very unkindly treated. In reply to the question as to whether he would like to remain with them, and work with them on the farm, he replied that he should like it very much if they would be kind to him, and not make him work too hard; that he would cook the dinner, and catch them rabbits and birds, and make a great many things.
"Will you be honest, if we keep you, and not tell lies?" said Edward.
The lad thought a little while, and then nodded his head in the affirmative.
"Well, Pablo, we will try you, and if you are a good lad we will do all we can to make you happy," said Edward; "but if you behave ill we shall be obliged to turn you out of doors: do you understand?"
"Be as good as I can," replied Pablo; and here the conversation ended for the present.
Pablo was a very short-built lad, of apparently fifteen or sixteen years of age, very dark in complexion, but very handsome in features, with beautiful white teeth and large dark eyes; and there was certainly something in his intelligent countenance which recommended him, independent of his claim to their kindness from his having been left thus friendless in consequence of his misadventure. Humphrey was particularly pleased with and interested about him, as the lad had so nearly lost his life through his means.
"I really think, Edward," said Humphrey, as they were standing outside of the door of the cottage, "that the lad may be very useful to us, and I sincerely hope that he may prove honest and true. We must first get him into health and spirits, and then I will see what he can do."
"The fact is, my dear Humphrey, we can do no otherwise; he is separated from his friends, and does not know where to go. It would be inhuman, as we have been the cause of his misfortune, to turn him away; but although I feel this, I do not feel much security as to his good behavior and being very useful. I have always been told that these gipsies were vagrants, who lived by stealing all they could lay their hands upon; and, if he has been brought up in that way, I fear that he will not easily be reformed. However, we can but try, and hope for the best."
"What you say is very just, Edward; at the same time there is an honest look about this lad, although he is a gipsy, that makes me put a sort of confidence in him. Admitting that he has been taught to do wrong, do you not think that when told the contrary he may be persuaded to do right?"
"It is not impossible, certainly," replied Edward; "but, Humphrey, be on the safe side, and do not trust him too far until you know more of him."
"That I most certainly will not," replied Humphrey. "When do you purpose going over to the keepers cottage, Edward?"
"In a day or two; but I am not exactly in a humor now to be very civil to the Roundheads, although the one I have promised to visit is a lady, and a very amiable, pretty little girl in the bargain."
"Why, Edward, what has made you feel more opposed to them than usual?"
"In the first place, Humphrey, the murder of the king—for it was murder and nothing better—I can not get that out of my head; and yesterday I obtained what I consider as almost a gift from Heaven, and if it is so it was not given but with the intention that I should make use of it."
"And what was that, Edward?"
"Our gallant father's sword, which he drew so nobly and so well in defense of his sovereign, Humphrey, and which I trust his son may one day wield with equal distinction, and, it may be, better fortune. Come in with me, and I will show it to you."
Edward and Humphrey went into the bedroom, and Edward brought out the sword, which he had placed by his side on the bed.
"See, Humphrey, this was our father's sword; and," continued Edward, kissing the weapon, "I trust I may be permitted to draw it to revenge his death, and the death of one whose life ever should have been sacred."
"I trust that you will, my dear brother," replied Humphrey; "you will have a strong arm and a good cause. Heaven grant that both may prosper! But tell me how you came by it."
Edward then related all that had passed during his visit with Oswald to Lymington, not forgetting to tell him of Benjamin's appearance, and the arrangements he had made relative to the sale of the venison.
As soon as dinner was over, Edward and Humphrey took down their guns, having agreed that they would go and hunt the wild cattle.
"Humphrey, have you any idea where the herd of cattle are feeding at this time?"
"I know where they were feeding yesterday and the day before, and I do not think that they will have changed their ground, for the grass is yet very young and only grown on the southern aspects. Depend upon it we shall fall in with them not four miles from where we now are, if not nearer."
"We must stalk them as we do the deer, must we not? They won't allow us to approach within shot, Humphrey, will they?" said Edward.
"We have to take our chance, Edward; they will allow us to advance within shot, but the bulls will then advance upon us, while the herd increase their distance. On the other hand, if we stalk them, we may kill one, and then the report of the gun will frighten the others away. In the first instance there is a risk; in the second there is none, but there is more fatigue and trouble. Choose as you please; I will act as you decide."
"Well, Humphrey, since you give me the choice, I think that this time I shall take the bull by the horns, as the saying is; that is, if there are any trees near us, for if the herd are in an open place I would not run such a risk; but if we can fire upon them and fall back upon a tree in case of a bull charging, I will take them openly."
"With all my heart, Edward; I think it will be very hard if, with our two guns and Smoker to back us, we do not manage to be masters of the field. However, we must survey well before we make our approach; and if we can get within shot without alarming or irritating them, we, of course, will do so."
"The bulls are very savage at this spring time," observed Edward.
"They are so at all times, as far as I can see of them," replied Humphrey; "but we are near to them now, I should think—yes, there is the herd."
"There they are, sure enough," replied Edward; "now we have not to do with deer, and need not to be so very cautious; but still the animals are wary, and keep a sharp look-out. We must approach them quietly, by slipping from tree to tree. Smoker, to heel!—down–quiet, Smoker!—good dog!"
Edward and Humphrey stopped to load their guns, and then approached the herd in manner which had been proposed, and were very soon within two hundred yards of the cattle, behind a large oak, when they stopped to reconnoiter. The herd contained about seventy head of cattle, of various sizes and ages. They were feeding in all directions, scattered, as the young grass was very short; but although the herd was spread over many acres of land, Edward pointed out to Humphrey that all the full-grown large bulls were on the outside, as if ready to defend the others in case of attack.
"Humphrey," said Edward, "one thing is clear—as the herd is placed at present, we must have a bull or nothing. It is impossible to get within shot of the others without passing a bull, and depend upon it, our passage will be disputed; and moreover the herd will take to flight, and we shall get nothing at all."
"Well," replied Humphrey, "beef is beef; and, as they say, beggars must not be choosers, so let it be a bull if it must be so."
"Let us get nearer to them, and then we will decide what we shall do.
Steady, Smoker!"
They advanced gradually, hiding from tree to tree, until they were within eighty yards of one of the bulls. The animal did not perceive them, and as they were now within range, they again stepped behind the tree to consult.
"Now, Edward, I think that it would be best to separate. You can fire from where we are, and I will crawl through the fern, and get behind another tree."
"Very well, do so," replied Edward: "if you can manage, get to that tree with the low branches, and then perhaps you will be within shot of the white bull, which is coming down in this direction. Smoker, lie down! He can not go with you, Humphrey; it will not be safe."
The distance of the tree which Humphrey ventured to get to was one about one hundred and fifty yards from where Edward was standing. Humphrey crawled along for some time in the fern, but at last he came to a bare spot of about ten yards wide, which they were not aware of, and where he could not be concealed. Humphrey hesitated, and at last decided upon attempting to cross it. Edward, who was one moment watching the motions of Humphrey, and at another that of the two animals nearest to them, perceived that the white bull farthest from him, but nearest to Humphrey, threw its head in the air, pawed with his foot, and then advanced with a roar to where Humphrey was on the ground, still crawling toward the tree, having passed the open spot, and being now not many yards from the tree. Perceiving the danger that his brother was in, and that, moreover, Humphrey himself was not aware of it, he hardly knew how to act. The bull was too far from him to fire at it with any chance of success; and how to let Humphrey know that the animal had discovered him and was making toward him, without calling out, he did not know. All this was the thought of a moment, and then Edward determined to fire at the bull nearest to him, which he had promised not to do till Humphrey was also ready to fire, and after firing to call to Humphrey. He therefore, for one moment, turned away from his brother, and, taking aim at the bull, fired his gun; but probably from his nerves being a little shaken at the idea of Humphrey being in danger, the wound was not mortal, and the bull galloped back to the herd, which formed a closed phalanx about a quarter of a mile distant. Edward then turned to where his brother was, and perceived that the bull had not made off with the rest of the cattle, but was within thirty yards of Humphrey, and advancing upon him, and that Humphrey was standing up beside the tree with his gun ready to file. Humphrey fired, and, as it appeared, he also missed his aim; the animal made at him; but Humphrey, with great quickness, dropped his gun, and, swinging by the lower boughs, was into the tree, and out of the bull's reach in a moment. Edward smiled when he perceived that Humphrey was safe; but still he was a prisoner, for the bull went round and round the tree roaring and looking up at Humphrey. Edward thought a minute, then loaded his gun, and ordered Smoker to run in to the bull. The dog, who had only been restrained by Edward's keeping him down at his feet, sprung forward to the attack. Edward had intended, by calling to the dog, to induce the bull to follow it till within gun-shot; but before the bull had been attacked, Edward observed that one or two more of the bulls had left the herd, and were coming at a rapid pace toward him. Under these circumstances, Edward perceived that his only chance was to climb into a tree himself, which he did, taking good care to take his gun and ammunition with him. Having safely fixed himself in a forked bough, Edward then surveyed the position of the parties. There was Humphrey in the tree, without his gun. The bull who had pursued Humphrey was now running at Smoker, who appeared to be aware that he was to decoy the bull toward Edward, for he kept retreating toward him. In the mean time, the two other bulls were quite close at hand, mingling their bellowing and roaring with the first; and one of them as near to Edward as the first bull, which was engaged with Smoker. At last, one of the advancing bulls stood still, pawing the ground as if disappointed at not finding an enemy, not forty yards from where Edward was perched. Edward took good aim, and when he fired the bull fell dead. Edward was reloading his piece when he heard a howl, and looking round, saw Smoker flying up in the air, having been tossed by the first bull; and at the same time he observed that Humphrey had descended from the tree, recovered his gun, and was now safe again upon the lower bough.
The first bull was advancing again to attack Smoker, who appeared incapable of getting away, so much was he injured by the fall, when the other bull, who apparently must have been an old antagonist of the first, roared and attacked him; and now the two boys were up in the tree, the two bulls fighting between them, and Smoker lying on the ground, panting and exhausted. As the bulls, with locked horns, were furiously pressing each other, both guns were discharged, and both animals fell. After waiting a little while to see if they rose again, or if any more of the herd came up, Edward and Humphrey descended from the trees and heartily shook hands.
CHAPTER XII
"A narrow escape, Humphrey!" said Edward as he held his brother's hand.
"Yes, indeed, we may thank Heaven for our preservation," replied Humphrey; "and poor Smoker! let us see if he is much hurt."
"I trust not," said Edward, going up to the dog, who remained quite still on the ground, with his tongue out, and panting violently.
They examined poor Smoker all over very carefully, and found that there was no external wound; but on Edward pressing his side, the animal gave a low howl.
"It is there where the horn of the bull took him," observed Humphrey.
"Yes," said Edward, pressing and feeling softly: "and he has two of his ribs broken. Humphrey, see if you can get him a little water, that will recover him more than any thing else; the bull has knocked the breath out of his body. I think he will soon be well again, poor fellow."
Humphrey soon returned with some water from a neighboring pool. He brought it in his hat and gave it to the dog, who lapped it slowly at first, but afterward much faster, and wagging his tail.
"He will do now," said Edward; "we must give him time to recover himself. Now then, let us examine our quarry. Why, Humphrey, what a quantity of meat we have here! It will take three journeys to Lymington at least."
"Yes, and no time to lose, for the weather is getting warm already, Edward. Now what to do? Will you remain while I go home for the cart?"
"Yes, it's no use both going; I will stay here and watch poor Smoker, and take off the skins ready by the time you are back again. Leave me your knife as well as my own, for one will soon be blunt."
Humphrey gave his knife to Edward, and taking up his gun, set off for the cottage. Edward had skinned two of the bulls before Humphrey's return; and Smoker, although he evidently was in great pain, was on his legs again. As soon as they had finished and quartered the beasts, the cart was loaded and they returned home; they had to return a second time, and both the pony and they were very tired before they sat down to supper They found the gipsy boy very much recovered and in good spirits. Alice said that he had been amusing Edith and her by tossing up three potatoes at a time, and playing them like balls; and that he has spun a platter upon an iron skewer and balanced it on his chin. They gave him some supper, which he ate in the chimney corner, looking up and staring every now and then at Edith, to whom he appeared very much attached already.
"Is it good?" said Humphrey to the boy, giving him another venison steak.
"Yes; not have so good supper in pithole," replied Pablo, laughing.
Early on the following morning, Edward and Humphrey set off to Lymington with the cart laden with meat. Edward showed Humphrey all the shops and the streets they were in where the purchases were to be made—introduced him to the landlord of the hostelry—and having sold their meat, they returned home. The rest of the meat was taken to Lymington and disposed of by Humphrey on the following day; and the day after that the three skins were carried to the town and disposed of.
"We made a good day's work, Edward," said Humphrey, as he reckoned up the money they had made.
"We earned it with some risk, at all events," replied Edward; "and now, Humphrey, I think it is time that I keep my promise to Oswald, and go over to the intendant's house, and pay my visit to the young lady, as I presume she is—and certainly she has every appearance of being one. I want the visit to be over, as I want to be doing."
"How do you mean, Edward?"
"I mean that I want to go out and kill some deer, but I will not do it till after I have seen her: when I shall have acquitted myself of my visit, I intend to defy the intendant and all his verderers."
"But why should this visit prevent you going out this very day, if so inclined?"
"I don't know, but she may ask me if I have done so, and I do not want to tell her that I have; neither do I want to say that I have not, if I have; and therefore I shall not commence till after I have seen her."
"When will you set off?"
"To-morrow morning; and I shall take my gun, although Oswald desired me not; but after the fight we had with the wild cattle the other day, I don't think it prudent to be unarmed; indeed, I do not feel comfortable without I have my gun, at any time."
"Well, I shall have plenty to do when you are away—the potatoes must be hoed up, and I shall see what I can make of Master Pablo. He appears well enough, and he has played quite long enough, so I shall take him with me to the garden to-morrow, and set him to work. What a quantity of fruit there is a promise of in the orchard this year! And Edward, if this boy turns out of any use, and is a help to me, I think that I shall take all the orchard into garden, and then inclose another piece of ground, and see if we can not grow some corn for ourselves. It is the greatest expense that we have at present, and I should like to take my own corn to the mill to be ground."
"But will not growing corn require plow and horses?" said Edward.
"No; we will try it by hand: two of us can dig a great deal at odd times, and we shall have a better crop with the spade than with the plow. We have now so much manure that we can afford it."
"Well, if it is to be done, it should be done at once, Humphrey, before the people from the other side of the forest come and find us out, or they will dispute our right to the inclosure."
"The forest belongs to the king, brother, and not to the Parliament; and we are the king's liege men, and only look to him for permission," replied Humphrey; "but what you say is true: the sooner it is done the better, and I will about it at once."
"How much do you propose fencing in?"
"About two or three acres."
"But that is more than you can dig this year or the next."
"I know that; but I will manure it without digging, and the grass will grow so rich to what it will outside of the inclosure, that they will suppose it has been inclosed a long while."
"That's not a bad idea, Humphrey; but I advise you to look well after that boy, for he is of a bad race, and has not been brought up, I am afraid, with too strict notions of honesty. Be careful, and tell your sisters also to be cautious not to let him suppose that we have any money in the old chest, till we find out whether he is to be trusted or not."
"Better not let him know it under any circumstances," replied Humphrey; "he may continue honest, if not tempted by the knowledge that there is any thing worth stealing."
"You are right, Humphrey. Well, I will be off to-morrow morning and get this visit over. I hope to be able to get all the news from her, now that her father is away.
"I hope to get some work out of this Pablo," replied Humphrey; "how many things I could do, if he would only work! Now, I'll tell you one thing—I will dig a sawpit and get a saw, and then I can cut out boards and build any thing we want. The first time I go to Lymington I will buy a saw—I can afford it now; and I'll make a carpenter's bench for the first thing, and then, with some more tools, I shall get on; and then, Edward, I'll tell you what else I will do."
"Then, Humphrey," replied Edward, laughing, "you must tell me some other time, for it is now very late, and I must go to bed, as I have to rise early. I know you have so many projects in your mind that it would take half the night to listen to them."
"Well, I believe what you say is true," replied Humphrey, "and it will be better to do one thing at a time than to talk about doing a hundred; so we will, as you say, to bed."
At sunrise, Edward and Humphrey were both up; Alice came out when they tapped at her door, as she would not let Edward go without his breakfast. Edith joined them, and they went to prayers. While they were so employed, Pablo came out and listened to what was said. When prayers were over, Humphrey asked Pablo if he knew what they had been doing.
"No, not much; suppose you pray sun to shine."
"No, Pablo," said Edith, "pray to God to make us good."
"You bad then?" said Pablo; "me not bad."
"Yes, Pablo, every body very bad," said Alice; "but if we try to be good, God forgives us."
The conversation was then dropped, and as soon as Edward had made his breakfast, he kissed his sisters, and wished Humphrey farewell.
Edward threw his gun over his arm, and calling his puppy, which he had named Holdfast, bade Humphrey and his sisters farewell, and set off on his journey across the forest.
Holdfast, as well as Humphrey's puppy, which had been named Watch, had grown very fine young animals. The first had been named Holdfast, because it would seize the pigs by the ears and lead them into the sty, and the other because it was so alert at the least noise; but, as Humphrey said, Watch ought to have learned to lead the pigs, it being more in his line of business than Holdfast's, which was to be brought up for hunting in the forest, while Watch was being educated as a house and farmyard dog.
Edward had refused to take the pony, as Humphrey required it for the farm-work, and the weather was so fine that he preferred walking; the more so, as it would enable him on his return across the forest to try for some venison, which he could not have done if he had been mounted on Billy's back. Edward walked quick, followed by his dog, which he had taught to keep to heel. He felt happy, as people do who have no cares, from the fine weather—the deep green of the verdure checkered by the flowers in bloom, and the majestic scenery which met his eye on every side. His heart was as buoyant as his steps, as he walked along, the light summer breeze fanning his face. His thoughts, however, which had been more of the chase than any thing else, suddenly changed, and he became serious. For some time he had heard no political news of consequence, or what the Commons were doing with the king. This revery naturally brought to his mind his father's death, the burning of his property, and its sequestration. His cheeks colored with indignation, and his brow was moody. Then he built castles for the future. He imagined the king released from his prison, and leading an army against his oppressors; he fancied himself at the head of a troop of cavalry, charging the Parliamentary horse. Victory was on his side. The king was again on his throne, and he was again in possession of the family estate. He was rebuilding the hall, and somehow or another it appeared to him that Patience was standing by his side, as he gave directions to the artificers, when his revery was suddenly disturbed by Holdfast barking and springing forward in advance.
Edward, who had by this time got over more than half his journey, looked up, and perceived himself confronted by a powerful man, apparently about forty years of age, and dressed as a verderer of the forest. He thought at the time that he had seldom seen a person with a more sinister and forbidding countenance.
"How now, young fellow, what are you doing here?" said the man, walking up to him and cocking the gun which he held in hand as he advanced.
Edward quietly cocked his own gun, which was loaded, when he perceived that hostile preparation on the part of the other person, and then replied, "I am walking across the forest, as you may perceive."
"Yes, I perceive you are walking, and you are walking with a dog and a gun: you will now be pleased to walk with me. Deer-stealers are not any longer permitted to range this forest."
"I am no deer-stealer," replied Edward. "It will be quite sufficient to give me that title when you find me with venison in my possession; and as for going with you, that I certainly shall not. Sheer off, or you may meet with harm."
"Why, you young good-for-nothing, if you have not venison, it is not from any will not to take it; you are out in pursuit of it, that is clear. Come, come, you've the wrong person to deal with; my orders are to take up all poachers, and take you I will."
"If you can," replied Edward; "but you must first prove that you are able so to do; my gun is as good and my aim is as sure as yours, whoever you may be. I tell you again, I am no poacher, nor have I come out to take the deer, but to cross over to the intendant's cottage, whither I am now going. I tell you thus much, that you may not do any thing foolish; and having said this, I advise you to think twice before you act once. Let me proceed in peace, or you may lose your place, if you do not, by your own rashness, lose your life."
There was something so cool and so determined in Edward's quiet manner, that the verderer hesitated. He perceived that any attempt to take Edward would be at the risk of his own life; and he knew that his orders were to apprehend all poachers, but not to shoot people. It was true, that resistance with firearms would warrant his acting in self-defense; but admitting that he should succeed, which was doubtful, still Edward had not been caught in the act of killing venison, and he had no witnesses to prove what had occurred. He also knew that the intendant had given very strict orders as to the shedding of blood, which he was most averse to, under any circumstances; and there was something in Edward's appearance and manner so different from a common person, that he was puzzled. Moreover, Edward had stated that he was going to the intendant's house. All things considered, as he found that bullying would not succeed, he thought it advisable to change his tone, and therefore said, "You tell me that you are going to the intendant's house; you have business there, I presume? If I took you prisoner, it is there I should have conducted you, so, young man, you may now walk on before me."
"I thank you," replied Edward, "but walk on before you I will not: but if you choose to half-cock your gun again, and walk by my side, I will do the same. Those are my terms, and I will listen to no other; so be pleased to make up your mind, as I am in haste."
The verderer appeared very indignant at this reply, but after a time said, "Be it so."
Edward then uncocked his gun, with his eyes fixed upon the man, and the verderer did the same: and then they walked side by side, Edward keeping at the distance of three yards from him, in case of treachery.
After a few moments' silence, the verderer said, "You tell me you are going to the intendant's house; he is not at home."
"But young Mistress Patience is, I presume," said Edward.
"Yes," replied the man, who, finding that Edward appeared to know so much about the intendant's family, began to be more civil. "Yes, she is at home, for I saw her in the garden this morning."
"And Oswald, is he at home?" rejoined Edward.
"Yes, he is. You appear to know our people, young man; who may you be, if it is a fair question?"
"It would have been a fair question had you treated me fairly," replied Edward; "but as it is no concern of yours, I shall leave you to find it out."
This reply puzzled the man still more; and he now, from the tone of authority assumed by Edward, began to imagine that he had made some mistake, and that he was speaking to a superior, although clad in a forester's dress. He therefore answered humbly, observing that he had only been doing his duty.
Edward walked on without making any reply.
As they arrived within a hundred yards of the intendant's house Edward said—
"I have now arrived at my destination, and am going into that house, as I told you. Do you choose to enter it with me, or will you go to Oswald Partridge and tell him that you have met with Edward Armitage in the forest, and that I should be glad to see him? I believe you are under his orders, are you not?"
"Yes I am," replied the verderer, "and as I suppose that all's right, I shall go and deliver your message."
