The Drummer's Coat Part 6

and then the same thought occurred to Colonel George as had seized upon the minds of the villagers--Was it possible that the idiot was a deserter, or that he and his mother were harbouring a deserter? But he kept his thoughts to himself, for he knew the terrible punishment to which a deserter would be liable, and did not wish Lady Eleanor to think of such a thing.

But however the gentry might doubt at the Hall, the folks in the village found no difficulty in accounting for everything. It was the witch who had enticed the children on to the moor and made them lose themselves; and, though she had sent them back safe and sound, it was impossible to say what trouble she might have in store for them. One soft-hearted woman did indeed suggest that no witch could have power to hurt such dear innocent angels; but Mrs. Fry promptly rose up in arms against her, for was not her Tommy also a dear innocent angel, though to be sure he was but a poor boy, whereas her Ladys.h.i.+p's children were rich? Then Mrs. Mugford came forward with her explanation, which was, that the Corporal, as had already been suspected, was undoubtedly in league with the witch, and had led the children into her clutches. It might be that the witch could not hurt them; but certain it was that, when all the country was out searching for them, she had led them straight back to the Corporal. As to the Corporal being thrown from his horse, Mrs. Mugford had heard such stories before; and it was strange that he had found his way home safe enough though he had left the children to be eaten alive, for aught he knew. It was strange, too, that he was waiting in the right place for the children next day when the witch brought them down, and that the witch had vanished, as Mrs. Mugford averred, in a cloud of brimstone smoke.

So the feeling against the Corporal in the village increased, and not the less because he looked ill for some days after the children's adventure, owing partly to the shaking which he had received in his fall, and partly to the miserable hours of anxiety and watching that had succeeded to it. The villagers of course attributed his appearance to the torment of a guilty conscience, and no one was more careful to dwell on this explanation than Mrs. Mugford, with a vehemence which surprised even Mrs. Fry, who knew the sharpness of her tongue better than her neighbours.

The Corporal took no more heed of the villagers' coldness than before; for a new matter had come forward to occupy his thoughts. While he was walking one day with the children through the wood above the village, d.i.c.k suddenly stopped and said that he had certainly seen a man slinking off the path into the covert; and the Corporal at once hurried to the spot in the hope that it might be the idiot. Making his way through the thicket he presently came upon a man lying down in some bracken and evidently anxious to conceal himself. The fellow was ragged, unkempt and bearded, but he was not the idiot, and he seemed terrified at being discovered, stammering out something about meaning no harm, and begging to be allowed to go. The Corporal sent the children a little apart, felt the man's pockets to be sure that he was not a poacher, and bade him begone and think himself lucky to escape so easily.

"I've seen you before," he said, looking hard at him, "and I shall know you again. You know you have no business here, and if I catch you again, it will be the worse for you." But though he let the man go, he puzzled himself all day to think where he had seen him before.

And now the annual fair at Kingstoke, the little town that lay nearest to Ashacombe, was at hand, and all kinds of strange people were to be seen on the road. There were hawkers and cheapjacks with persuasive tongues, which the villagers found difficult to resist; swarthy gipsies with gaudy red and yellow handkerchiefs, whom they kept at a safe distance; and great lumbering vans containing fat ladies, and learned pigs and two-headed calves, which roused their curiosity greatly.

Finally one day a loud noise of drumming brought d.i.c.k and Elsie flying down the road, and there was a recruiting serjeant as large as life, with red coat, white trousers and plumed shako hung with ribbons, and with him a drummer and a fifer. The two last had stopped playing by the time that the children reached them, and were apparently not best pleased, for Mrs. Mugford had flown out at them directly they appeared with, "No, no. 'Tis no use for the like of you to come here. We won't have naught to do with the like of you, taking our boys away to be treated no better than dogs." And all the other women had shaken their heads knowingly and looked askance at the red coats; so that, as all the men were out at work and as there seemed to be little chance of obtaining refreshment, the serjeant simply scowled and moved on. He and his companions looked dusty and thirsty, for the day was hot, and the drummer and fifer, who were both very young, looked tired and hungry as well. In fact they had only played in the hope of being offered a drink, which hope Mrs. Mugford's tongue had effectually extinguished for them.

So on they went along the road, followed by d.i.c.k and Elsie, who were deeply disappointed; but close by the lodge the children saw the Corporal, and running forward to him prayed him to ask the serjeant to give them a tune. The serjeant evidently recognised the Corporal as an old soldier, for he wished him good-day; and the Corporal then asked him if he would play something for little master and mistress.

"Will little master give us something to wet our whistle with?" asked the serjeant. "We have had a longish march to-day, eight miles already and six more to go, and there's little to be got on the road. It's a wild country hereabout."

At a word from the Corporal d.i.c.k flew up to the house with Elsie at his heels, to ask his mother's leave, and meanwhile the serjeant asked the Corporal if he knew anything of the deserter from the Marines whose description was on all the churchdoors, as he was said to be somewhere in those parts. Presently d.i.c.k returned breathless with a message to the recruiting party to come up to the Hall, where the fife and drum struck up, and Lady Eleanor came out to say that soldiers were always welcome, and this with a gracious condescension which in itself was nearly as good as a gla.s.s of beer to a thirsty man. Then the serjeant followed the Corporal towards the back door; and the drummer, who was a good-natured lad, seeing how d.i.c.k stared at his drum, took it off, and shortening the slings put them over his head. Lady Eleanor at once called to d.i.c.k that he was keeping the drummer from his dinner; but the drummer replied that he was sure little master would take care of the drum and that he was very welcome; and d.i.c.k begged so hard to be allowed to keep it for a little while that Lady Eleanor after some hesitation gave in, only bidding d.i.c.k not to make too much noise close to the house.

So off d.i.c.k strutted, followed by Elsie, tapping from time to time, till on reaching a quiet place under the trees in the park, he was very glad to take the drum off and turn it round very carefully, looking at the Royal Arms and the names of battles that were painted round them.

Then he began tapping again, when all of a sudden there was a rustle behind them, and there stood the familiar figure of the idiot Jan, with his face grinning wider than usual. The children were startled and were on the point of running to the house, but he held up his finger as usual and beckoned to d.i.c.k to go on beating; though after hearing a tap or two he shook his head and, taking up the drum, let out the slings and put them over his own head. Then he squared his shoulders and threw out his chest, and bringing up his elbows in a line with his chin he beat two taps loudly with each stick, slowly at first and gradually faster and faster till the taps blended together in a long, loud roll.

Then he stopped and grinned at the children, who were staring with amazement and delight; and then beating two short rolls he began to march up and down whistling the tune "Lillibulero," which the bullfinch piped, and beating in perfect time with all his might.

So intent was he on his music that neither he nor the children noticed the serjeant, who with halberd in hand came walking up with the drummer and fifer close behind him.

"What have we here?" said the serjeant, eyeing the strange figure before him. "Where did you learn to beat like that, my man?" he went on, laying a heavy hand on the idiot's shoulder. The idiot glanced round with a start, and uttering a whine of terror slipped away from the serjeant's hand, swung the drum on to his back, and made off as fast as his legs would carry him.

"What's the meaning of this?" said the serjeant staring for a moment.

"The deserter for a guinea! After him boys, quick! There's a reward out for him." And away went the drummer and fifer in pursuit, while the serjeant followed as fast as he could; and the children, after gazing for a time in bewildered alarm, ran back to the house. The idiot ran like the wind, but in his first terror he had taken the wrong direction and was flying down towards the village. Reaching the drive before his pursuers he gained on them somewhat, but he fumbled at the gate by the lodge and let them get close to him. He broke away, however, and was running gallantly through the village with the lads hard after him, when down the road came the ample figure of Mrs.

Mugford, who put down the pitcher that she was carrying and stood right in his way with her arms spread out wide. She did not dare actually to stop him, but she so confused him that in another few yards the drummer and fifer had caught him each by an arm. The idiot cowered abject and trembling between them, and the three stood panting and breathless, while Mrs. Mugford exhorted at the top of her voice,

"Hold mun fast, brave lads!" she cried, in a very different tone from that which she had lately used to the soldiers. "Hold mun fast!

That's the man you was a looking vor. Hold mun fast! Ah, you roog; so we've a got 'ee at last, and now 'twill be the jail and the gallows for 'ee sure enough. Ah! you may whine and guggle, but you won't get away, not this time." Her cries brought every woman in the village to the spot, and solemn were the shakings of heads, and loud the recalling of prophecies that vengeance would soon overtake the wicked. Then the serjeant came elbowing his way through the crowd, and was hailed instantly, like the drummer and fifer, by Mrs. Mugford. "That's the man you'm a looking for, maister; and a bad one he is. Hold mun fast, maister; and don't let mun go, whatever."

"Ah! you know him, do you?" said the serjeant. "Well, you can trust him to me. Take the drum off his back, my lads, and bring him along."

But the idiot seemed hardly able to move; and they had not taken him far, with the women and children still crowding round them, when they were stopped by his mother, who came hastening up the road and planted herself full in the way.

"Now, then," she said sharply, "what be doing to that boy? Let mun go.

He's a done no harm to you, I reckon. Let mun go, I tell 'ee. Where be taking mun?"

"Come, mistress, no hard words," answered the serjeant. "I don't know who you are; but this young man's my prisoner, and to Kingstoke he must go tonight, and before the nearest justice to-morrow for a deserter."

"Ay, and for a witch too and you with mun," yelled Mrs. Fry; and she and the women with her raised a howl that was not pleasant to hear.

"She's awitched my boy," screamed Mrs. Fry high above the rest. "She's a witch and she ought to be drownded in the river."

The serjeant looked puzzled, and was relieved to see the Corporal come limping up the road; but Mrs. Mugford no sooner saw him than she screamed at the top of her voice, "Ah, don't 'ee listen to he, maister.

'Twas he that let mun go weeks agone, and there's been nothing but bad work for us all since then. He's so bad as any o' mun; 'twas he that let mun take her Ladys.h.i.+p's childer; and we'm not going to be plagued with witches no more. Lave the witches to us. We knows what to do with mun."

"What have you got against the man?" asked the Corporal of the serjeant.

"He's a deserter," said the serjeant shortly, "and it seems that these women know him well enough, if you don't."

"He ain't no deserter," said the idiot's mother savagely, "he wasn't never 'listed."

"Then how comes he to drum as he did?" retorted the serjeant. "Our own drummers couldn't beat better."

The woman clenched her fists in despair, and the Corporal looked very grave; but he no sooner tried to speak to the serjeant than the women again raised a yell that he was not to be trusted, and renewed their cry that they would be troubled with witches no longer, but would drown them in the river and have done with them. At last they worked themselves up into such a state of fury that the Corporal saw that they meant mischief, and said sharply to the serjeant that if he didn't look out they would take his prisoner from him. Even while he spoke they made a rush, but the serjeant had his wits about him and brought down his halberd to the charge, just in time to stop them.

"Now, enough of this," he said sternly. "I know nothing about your witches and nonsense, but this young man's my prisoner, and if you don't leave him to me it will be the worse for you. Take him along, lads."

So the drummer and fifer led the idiot down the road, while the serjeant, with his halberd still at the charge, kept the women at bay; and thus slowly they pa.s.sed clear of the village while the women and children, after following for a time with yells and execrations, at last dropped behind.

"Now, mistress," said the serjeant to the idiot's mother, "you'd best look out for yourself, I expect, and go away."

The woman turned upon him with a scornful laugh. "Do you suppose I be afraid of they?" she said. "Not I; and if 'ee think that I'm a going to leave my boy--here, let mun go," she said resolutely, shoving away the drummer's arm--"you've naught against mun. I tell 'ee he wasn't never 'listed."

The serjeant removed her hand instantly. "None of that," he said.

"You can come along with him as far as you will, but the justice will see to the rest to-morrow morning."

The woman glanced at the Corporal in despair, but the Corporal could only shake his head. "Best go quietly along with him, mistress," he said; "I'll go to her Ladys.h.i.+p and do what I can." Then he turned to the serjeant and said: "I believe you've got hold of the wrong man; for this is only a poor half-witted lad, not the man that you want. Don't be hard on him."

"Not I, if he gives no trouble," said the serjeant. So he went on with his charge along the road to Kingstoke, the idiot staggering along on his mother's arm between the fifer and the drummer, and he himself walking behind. And the Corporal limped up over the park as quickly as he could to the Hall.

CHAPTER XI

Great was Lady Eleanor's distress when she heard from the Corporal what had happened. "Ah, if only Colonel Fitzdenys had been here!" she repeated more than once; but she could think of nothing that could be done except to send a letter at once to the colonel to tell him the whole story and to ask him to be present at Kingstoke, which lay close to Fitzdenys, when the prisoner should be brought up next morning.

This was the Corporal's suggestion; but Lady Eleanor noticed that he was unusually silent and subdued, and she was rather surprised when he asked leave rather mysteriously to be absent from the house for the rest of the day. But she trusted him so implicitly that she granted his request without hesitation, and the Corporal, having sent off the letter, went out for the evening by himself.

The truth was that he was bitterly hurt and indignant at the hard words that Mrs. Mugford had used towards him, of having betrayed the children to the witch on the moor. The bare idea that he should have been false to his mistress and to the children, whom he wors.h.i.+pped, made him furious; and he went out with the determination of giving Mrs. Mugford a bit of his mind before night, but, like a wise man, not until he had thought the matter well over during a solitary walk. So he made his way through the woods and in due time came to the place where d.i.c.k had pointed out to him the ragged man, whom he had found skulking in the fern a short time before. Then it flashed across him suddenly that this man might be the deserter, and he blamed himself for his stupidity in not thinking of it at first. Once again he racked his brains to remember where he had seen the man before, for certainly he had seen him or some one very like him; and with his mind full of Mrs. Mugford he suddenly recalled her son Henry, who had enlisted for a marine, and had once come back on sick-leave. The more he thought of it, the more certain he was that the man whom he had found was Henry Mugford, for though he had not seen him for some years he had never heard that he had been discharged. That would account for Mrs. Mugford's anxiety to keep the Corporal out of the village, and to get the idiot arrested, for it would probably be some days before a serjeant of Marines could arrive from Plymouth, or the idiot himself could be sent there, to decide if he were the deserter Henry Bale or not. And, as to the name, the Corporal knew well enough by experience that men constantly enlisted under a.s.sumed names, while Bale was a likely name for this particular man to choose, as it had been Mrs. Mugford's own before she married.

Thus reflecting, the Corporal turned along the path that led through the woods lying above the village, stopped when he saw the roofs of the cottages below him, and went down through the covert towards the hedge that parted the cottage-gardens from it. It was dusk, so that he had little difficulty in remaining unseen, and as he drew nearer to the two cottages where Mrs. Fry and Mrs. Mugford lived, he heard the voices of the pair in violent altercation in the garden below.

"You said so plain as could be that you'd a-share the two guineas with me," Mrs. Fry was saying indignantly. "That's what you said."

"And don't I say that I'll give 'ee five s.h.i.+llings?" retorted Mrs.

Mugford, "and that's more than nine out of ten would give. 'Twas I catched mun and not you. If I hadn't stopped mun in the road they'd never have catched mun at all, and 'twas a chance then that he might have killed me, mazed as he is. And you've a-taken pounds and pounds from the gentry for the harm that was done your Tommy, and never given me so much as a penny, though I've a-showed mun many times when you wasn't in house."

"Well," said Mrs. Fry defiantly, "then we'll see what people say when I tells what I've a-seen of a man coming round to your house night-times these weeks and weeks, and you going out to mun with bread and mate.

I've a-seen mun, for all that you was so false."

Then they dropped their voices, and Mrs. Mugford appeared to be making new offers. But the Corporal had heard enough. Keeping himself carefully concealed he walked along the hedge until he found a rack over it, which seemed to be well worn, leading down to the cottages below, and by this rack he curled himself up in the bushes, and waited.

In a short time the village was dark and silent, for in those days oil-lamps were never seen in a cottage; and the Corporal found waiting rather cold work, but he had bivouacked on colder nights in the wars, and lay patiently in his place. A little after ten the moon rose, but it was full eleven o'clock before the Corporal heard the bushes rustle, and at last made out a man creeping cautiously alongside the hedge.

Nearer and nearer he came, straight to the rack in the hedge, where after pausing for a moment to listen, he was beginning to scramble up; when the Corporal suddenly laid hold of his ankles, brought him sprawling down, rolled him into the hedge-trough, and was instantly on top of him, with his knee on his chest and his hand on his throat. The unfortunate creature was too much paralysed by fright to resist; and the Corporal soon dragged his face round into the moonlight and saw that he had caught the man that he wanted.

"So you've come here again, Henry Bale," said the Corporal; "I told you that it would be the worse for you, if you did."