The Complete Works of Stephen Crane (74 page)

There seemed to be a pleased surprise on the face of the landlord when I called for my bill and paid it without question, chiding him for his delay in not sending it before. I engaged a horse for Father Donovan to ride on the following morning, and ordered breakfast ready at six o’clock, although I gave my commands that I was to be wakened an hour before daylight.

I spent the rest of the day in my room with Paddy and Jem, trying to knock into their heads some little notion of geography, wishing to make certain that they would sooner or later arrive in Rye without stumbling in on Belfast while on the way. My own knowledge of the face of the country was but meagre, so the landlord brought in a rough map of the south of England, and I cautioned the lads to get across London Bridge and make for the town of Maidstone, from where they could go due south, and if they happened on the coast they were to inquire for Rye and stay there until further orders. Jem Bottles, who thought he had brains in his head, said he would not be so open in telling every one we were going to Rye if he was me, because he was sure the Earl had people on the look-out, and money was plenty with his lordship. If every one knew when we were taking our departure, there would be no difficulty in following us and overcoming us on some lonely part of the road.

“Jem,” said I, “that’s all very true; but when they attacked us before they got very little change for their trouble; and if you are afraid of some slight commotion on the road, then you can stay back here in London.”

“I am not afraid at all,” said Jem, “but if there’s anything particular you would like to see in Rye, there’s no use in blocking the road to it.”

“Sure, Jem, then be quiet about it.”

Turning to the landlord, who was standing by, I said to him:

“My men fear we are going to be intercepted, so I think if I began the journey some time before daylight, and they followed me soon after, I might slip away unnoticed.”

The landlord scratched his head and crinkled up his brow, for to think was unusual with him.

“I don’t see,” he said at last, “what you have to gain by going separately. It seems to me it would be better to go in a body, and then, if you are set on, there are three instead of one.”

“Very well,” said I, “I’ll take your caution into consideration, and act upon it or not as seems best when the time comes.”

I told Paddy and Jem to sleep that night on the floor of my own room, and cautioned them to wake me an hour before daylight at the latest. Jem slept through until I had to kick him into consciousness; but poor Paddy, on the other hand, wakened me four times during the night, — the first time two hours after I had gone to sleep, and I could have cudgelled him for his pains, only I knew the lad’s intentions were good. The last time I could stand it no longer, although it was still earlier than the hour I had said, so I got up and dressed myself in one of my new suits.

“And here, Paddy,” said I, “you will wear the costume I had on yesterday.”

“I couldn’t think of it,” said Paddy, drawing back from the grandeur.

“You are not to think, you impudent gossoon, but to do as I tell you. Put them on, and be as quick as you can.”

“Troth, yer honour,” said Paddy, still shrinking from them, “they’re too grand for the likes o’ me, an’ few will be able to tell the differ atween us.”

“You conceited spalpeen, do ye think there’s no difference between us but what the clothes make? Get into them. I intend certain other people to take you for me in the dark, and I can warrant you these clothes, grand as you think them, will be very soundly beaten before this day is done with.”

“Ochone, ochone,” moaned Paddy, “am I to get another beating already, and some of the bruises not yet off my flesh?”

“Put on the coat now, and don’t do so much talking. Sure it’s all in the day’s work, and I promise you before long you’ll have your revenge on them.”

“It’s not revenge I’m after,” wailed Paddy, “but a whole skin.”

“Now you’re transformed into a gentleman,” said I, “and many a lad would take a beating for the privilege of wearing such gorgeous raiment. Here is a packet of paper that you’re to keep in your pocket till it’s taken away from you. And now I’ll help you to saddle the horse, and once you’re across London Bridge you’ll likely come upon Maidstone and Rye some time in your life, for you can’t get back over the river again except by the same bridge, so you’ll know it when you come to it.”

And so I mounted Paddy in the courtyard; the sleepy watchman undid the bolts in the big gate in the archway; and my man rode out into the darkness in no very cheerful humour over his journey. I came back and took forty winks more in the arm-chair, then, with much difficulty, I roused Jem Bottles. He also, without a murmur, but with much pride in his dressing, put on the second of my discarded suits, and seemed to fancy himself mightily in his new gear. With plenty of cord I tied and retied the two bundles of swords and placed them across the horse in front of his saddle, and it was not yet daylight when Jem jingled out into the street like a moving armoury. Two huge pistols were in his holsters, loaded and ready to his hand.

“By the Saints,” said Jem proudly, “the man that meddles with me shall get hot lead or cold steel for his breakfast,” and with that he went off at a canter, waking the echoes with the clash of his horse’s shoes on the cobble-stones.

I went up stairs again and threw myself down on the bed and slept peacefully with no Paddy to rouse me until half-past-six, when a drawer knocked at the door and said that a priest that was downstairs would be glad to see me. I had him up in a jiffy, and a hot breakfast following fast on his heels, which we both laid in in quantities, for neither of us knew where our next meal was to be. However, the good father paid little thought to the future as long as the present meal was well served and satisfactory. He had no more idea than a spring lamb how we were to get to Rye, but thought perhaps a coach set out at that hour in the morning. When I told him I had a horse saddled and waiting for him, he was pleased, for Father Donovan could scamper across the country in Ireland with the best of them. So far as I could judge, the coast was clear, for every one we met between the “Pig and Turnip” and the bridge seemed honest folk intent on getting early to their work. It was ten minutes past seven when we clattered across the bridge and set our faces toward Rye.

Looking back over my long life I scarcely remember any day more pleasant than that I spent riding side by side with Father Donovan from London to Rye. The fine old man had a fund of entertaining stories, and although I had heard them over and over again there was always something fresh in his way of telling them, and now and then I recognized a narrative that had once made two separate stories, but which had now become welded into one in the old man’s mind. There was never anything gloomy in these anecdotes, for they always showed the cheerful side of life and gave courage to the man that wanted to do right; for in all of Father Donovan’s stories the virtuous were always made happy. We talked of our friends and acquaintances, and if he ever knew anything bad about a man he never told it; while if I mentioned it he could always say something good of him to balance it, or at least to mitigate the opinion that might be formed of it. He was always doing some man a good turn or speaking a comforting word for him.

“O’Ruddy,” he said, “I spent most of the day yesterday writing letters to those that could read them in our part of Ireland, setting right the rumours that had come back to us, which said you were fighting duels and engaged in brawls, but the strangest story of all was the one about your forming a friendship with a highwayman, who, they said, committed robberies on the road and divided the spoil with you, and here I find you without a servant at all at all, leading a quiet, respectable life at a quiet, respectable inn. It’s not even in a tavern that I first come across you, but kneeling devoutly, saying a prayer in your mother church. I see you leaving your inn having paid your bill like a gentleman, when they said you took night-leave of most of the hostelries in England. Dear me, and there was the landlord bowing to you as if you were a prince, and all his servants in a row with the utmost respect for you. Ah, O’Ruddy, it’s men like you that gives the good name to Ireland, and causes her to be looked up to by all the people of the world.”

I gave Father Donovan heartfelt thanks for his kindness, and prayed to myself that we would not come upon Jem Bottles on the road, and that we would be left unmolested on our journey until we saw the sea-coast. Of course, if we were set upon, it would not be my fault, and it’s not likely he would blame me; but if we came on Bottles, he was inclined to be very easy in conversation, and, in spite of my warnings, would let slip words that would shock the old priest. But when a day begins too auspiciously, its luck is apt to change before the sun sets, as it was with me.

It was nearing mid-day, and we were beginning to feel a trifle hungry, yet were in a part of the country that gave little promise of an inn, for it was a lonely place with heath on each side of the road, and, further on, a bit of forest. About half-way through this wooded plain an astonishing sight met my eyes. Two saddled horses were tied to a tree, and by the side of the road appeared to be a heap of nine or ten saddles, on one of which a man was sitting, comfortably eating a bit of bread, while on another a second man, whose head was tied up in a white cloth, lay back in a recumbent position, held upright by the saddlery. Coming closer, I was disturbed to see that the man eating was Jem Bottles, while the other was undoubtedly poor Paddy, although his clothes were so badly torn that I had difficulty in recognizing them as my own. As we drew up Jem stood and saluted with his mouth full, while Paddy groaned deeply. I was off my horse at once and ran to Paddy.

“Where are ye hurted?” said I.

“I’m killed,” said Paddy.

“I’ve done the best I could for him,” put in Jem Bottles. “He’ll be all right in a day or two.”

“I’ll not,” said Paddy, with more strength than one would suspect; “I’ll not be all right in a day or two, nor in a week or two, nor in a month or two, nor in a year or two; I’m killed entirely.”

“You’re not,” said Bottles. “When I was on the highway I never minded a little clip like that.”

“Hush, Bottles,” said I, “you talk altogether too much. Paddy,” cried I, “get on your feet, and show yer manners here to Father Donovan.”

Paddy got on his feet with a celerity which his former attitude would not have allowed one to believe possible.

“My poor boy!” said the kindly priest; “who has misused you?” and he put his two hands on the sore head.

“About two miles from here,” said Paddy, “I was set on by a score of men—”

“There was only nine of them,” interrupted Jem, “count the saddles.”

“They came on me so sudden and unexpected that I was off my horse before I knew there was a man within reach. They had me down before I could say my prayers, and cudgelled me sorely, tearing my clothes, and they took away the packet of papers you gave me, sir. Sure I tried to guard it with my life, an’ they nearly took both.”

“I am certain you did your best, Paddy,” said I; “and it’s sorry I am to see you injured.”

“Then they rode away, leaving me, sore wounded, sitting on the side of the road,” continued Paddy. “After a while I come to myself, for I seemed dazed; and, my horse peacefully grazing beside me, I managed to get on its back, and turned toward London in the hope of meeting you; but instead of meeting you, sir, I came upon Jem with his pile of saddles, and he bound up my head and did what he could to save me, although I’ve a great thirst on me at this moment that’s difficult to deal with.”

“There’s a ditch by the side of the road,” said the priest.

“Yes,” said Paddy sadly; “I tried some of that.”

I went to my pack on the horse and took out a bottle and a leather cup. Paddy drank and smacked his lips with an ecstasy that gave us hope for his ultimate recovery. Jem Bottles laughed, and to close his mouth I gave him also some of the wine.

“I hope,” said Father Donovan with indignation, “that the miscreant who misused you will be caught and punished.”

“I punished them,” said Jem, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth.

“We’ll hear about it another time,” said I, having my suspicions.

“Let the good man go on,” begged Father Donovan, who is not without human curiosity.

Jem needed no second bidding.

“Your Reverence,” he said, “I was jogging quietly on as a decent man should, when, coming to the edge of this forest, I saw approach me a party of horsemen, who were very hilarious and laughed loudly. If you look up and down the road and see how lonely it is, and then look at the wood, with no hedge between it and the highway, you’ll notice the place was designed by Providence for such a meeting.”

“Sure the public road is designed as a place for travellers to meet,” said the father, somewhat bewildered by the harangue.

“Your Reverence is right, but this place could not afford better accommodation if I had made it myself. I struck into the wood before they saw me, tore the black lining from my hat, punched two holes in it for the eyes, and tied it around my forehead, letting it hang down over my face; then I primed my two pistols and waited for the gentlemen. When they were nearly opposite, a touch of the heels to my horse’s flank was enough, and out he sprang into the middle of the road.

“‘Stand and deliver!’ I cried, pointing the pistols at them, the words coming as glibly to my lips as if I had said them no later ago than yesterday. ‘Stand and deliver, ye—’” and here Jem glibly rattled out a stream of profane appellatives which was disgraceful to listen to.

“Tut, tut, Jem,” I said, “you shouldn’t speak like that. Any way we’ll hear the rest another time.”

“That’s what I called them, sir,” said Jem, turning to me with surprise, “you surely would not have me tell an untruth.”

“I wouldn’t have you tell anything. Keep quiet. Father Donovan is not interested in your recital.”

“I beg your pardon, O’Ruddy,” said Father Donovan, looking at me reproachfully; “but I am very much interested in this man’s narrative.”

“As any good man should be,” continued Jem, “for these were arrant scoundrels; one of them I knew, and his name is Doctor Chord. He fell off his horse on the roadway at once and pleaded for mercy. I ordered the others instantly to hold their hands above their heads, and they did so, except one man who began fumbling in his holster, and then, to show him what I could do with a pistol, I broke his wrist. At the sound of the shot the horses began to plunge, nearly trampling Doctor Chord into the dust.

“‘Clasp your hands above your heads, ye—’”

Here went on another stream of terrible language again, and in despair I sat down on the pile of saddles, allowing things to take their course. Jem continued:

“The lesson of the pistol was not misread by my gentlemen, when they noticed I had a second loaded one; so, going to them one after the other I took their weapons from them and flung them to the foot of that tree, where, if you look, you may see them now. Then I took a contribution from each one, just as you do in church, your Reverence. I’m sure you have a collection for the poor, and that was the one I was taking up this day. I have not counted them yet,” said the villain turning to me, “but I think I have between sixty and seventy guineas, which are all freely at your disposal, excepting a trifle for myself and Paddy there. There’s no plaster like gold for a sore head, your Reverence. I made each one of them dismount and take off his saddle and throw it in the pile; then I had them mount again and drove them with curses toward London, and very glad they were to escape.”

“He did not get the papers again,” wailed Paddy, who was not taking as jubilant a view of the world as was Jem at that moment.

“I knew nothing of the papers,” protested Bottles. “If you had told me about the papers, I would have had them, and if I had been carrying the papers these fellows would not have made away with them.”

“Then,” said the horrified priest, “you did not commit this action in punishment for the injury done to your friend? You knew nothing of that at the time. You set on these men thinking they were simple travellers.”

“O, I knew nothing of what happened to Paddy till later, but you see, your Reverence, these men themselves were thieves and robbers. In their case it was nine men against one poor half-witted Irish lad—”

“Half-witted yourself,” cried Paddy angrily.

“But you, sir,” continued his Reverence, “were simply carrying out the action of a highwayman. Sir, you
are
a highwayman.”

“I was, your Reverence, but I have reformed.”

“And this pile of saddles attests your reformation!” said the old man, shaking his head.

“But you see, your Reverence, this is the way to look at it—”

“Keep quiet, Jem!” cried I in disgust.

“How can I keep quiet,” urged Bottles, “when I am unjustly accused? I do not deny that I was once a highwayman, but Mr. O’Ruddy converted me to better ways—”

“Highways,” said Paddy, adding, with a sniff, “Half-witted!”

“Your Reverence, I had no more intention of robbing those men than you have at this moment. I didn’t know they were thieves themselves. Then what put it into my head to jump into the wood and on with a mask before you could say, Bristol town? It’s the mysterious ways of Providence, your Reverence. Even I didn’t understand it at the time, but the moment I heard Paddy’s tale I knew at once I was but an instrument in the hand of Providence, for I had not said, ‘Stand and deliver!’ this many a day, nor thought of it.”