Rookwood Part 64

Huntingdon is left behind, and he is once more surrounded by dew-gemmed hedges and silent slumbering trees. Broad meadows, or pasture land, with drowsy cattle, or low bleating sheep, lie on either side. But what to Turpin, at that moment, is nature, animate or inanimate? He thinks only of his mare--his future fame. None are by to see him ride; no stimulating plaudits ring in his ears; no thousand hands are clapping; no thousand voices huzzaing; no handkerchiefs are waved; no necks strained; no bright eyes rain influence upon him; no eagle orbs watch his motions; no bells are rung; no cup awaits his achievement; no sweepstakes--no plate. But his will be renown--everlasting renown; his will be fame which will not die with him--which will keep his reputation, albeit a tarnished one, still in the mouths of men. He wants all these advent.i.tious excitements, but he has that within which is a greater excitement than all these. He is conscious that he is doing a deed to live by. If not riding for _life_, he is riding for _immortality_; and as the hero may perchance feel--for even a highwayman may feel like a hero,--when he willingly throws away his existence in the hope of earning a glorious name, Turpin cared not what might befall himself, so he could proudly signalize himself as the first of his land,

_And witch the world with n.o.ble horsemans.h.i.+p!_

What need had he of spectators? The eye of posterity was upon him; he felt the influence of that Argus glance which has made many a poor wight spur on his Pegasus with not half so good a chance of reaching the goal as d.i.c.k Turpin. Mult.i.tudes, yet unborn, he knew would hear and laud his deeds. He trembled with excitement, and Bess trembled under him. But the emotion was transient. On, on they fly! The torrent leaping from the crag--the bolt from the bow--the air-cleaving eagle--thoughts themselves are scarce more winged in their flight!

_CHAPTER VII_

_THE YORK STAGE_

YORK, FOUR DAYS!--_Stage Coach begins on Friday, the 18th of April, 1706._ All that are desirous to pa.s.s from London to York, or from York to London, or any other place on that road, let them repair to the Black Swan, in Holborn, in London, or to the Black Swan, in Coney Street, in York. At both which places they may be received in a _Stage Coach_, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which performs the journey in four days--if G.o.d permits!--and sets forth at five in the morning. And returns from York to Stamford in two days, and from Stamford, by Huntingdon, in two days more. And the like stages in their return. Allowing each pa.s.senger fourteen pounds' weight, and all above, three pence per pound. Performed by Benjamin Kingman, Henry Harrison, and Waller Baynes.--_Placard, preserved in the coffee-room, of the Black Swan Inn at York._

The night had hitherto been balmy and beautiful, with a bright array of stars, and a golden harvest moon, which seemed to diffuse even warmth with its radiance; but now Turpin was approaching the region of fog and fen, and he began to feel the influence of that dank atmosphere. The intersecting d.y.k.es, yawners, gullies, or whatever they are called, began to send forth their steaming vapors, and chilled the soft and wholesome air, obscuring the void, and in some instances, as it were, choking up the road itself with vapor. But fog or fen was the same to Bess; her hoofs rattled merrily along the road, and she burst from a cloud, like Eous at the break of dawn.

It chanced, as he issued from a fog of this kind, that Turpin burst upon the York stage coach. It was no uncommon thing for the coach to be stopped; and so furious was the career of our highwayman, that the man involuntarily drew up his horses. Turpin had also to draw in the rein, a task of no little difficulty, as charging a huge, lumbering coach, with its full complement of pa.s.sengers, was more than even Bess could accomplish. The moon shone brightly on Turpin and his mare. He was unmasked, and his features were distinctly visible. An exclamation was uttered by a gentleman on the box, who, it appeared, instantly recognized him.

"Pull up--draw your horses across the road!" cried the gentleman; "that's d.i.c.k Turpin, the highwayman. His capture would be worth three hundred pounds to you," added he, addressing the coachman, "and is of equal importance to me. Stand!" shouted he, presenting a c.o.c.ked pistol.

This resolution of the gentleman was not apparently agreeable, either to the coachman or the majority of the pa.s.sengers--the name of Turpin acting like magic upon them. One man jumped off behind, and was with difficulty afterwards recovered, having tumbled into a deep ditch at the roadside. An old gentleman with a cotton nightcap, who had popped out his head to swear at the coachman, drew it suddenly back. A faint scream in a female key issued from within, and there was a considerable hubbub on the roof. Amongst other ominous sounds, the guard was heard to click his long horse-pistols. "Stop the York four-day stage!" said he, forcing his smoky voice through a world of throat-embracing shawl; "the fastest coach in the kingdom: vos ever such atrocity heard of? I say, Joe, keep them ere leaders steady; we shall all be in the ditch. Don't you see where the hind wheels are? Who--whoop, I say."

The gentleman on the box now discharged his pistol, and the confusion within was redoubled. The white nightcap was popped out like a rabbit's head, and as quickly popped back on hearing the highwayman's voice.

Owing to the plunging of the horses, the gentleman had missed his aim.

Prepared for such emergencies as the present, and seldom at any time taken aback, d.i.c.k received the fire without flinching. He then lashed the horses out of his course, and rode up, pistol in hand, to the gentleman who had fired.

"Major Mowbray," said he, in a stern tone, "I know you. I meant not either to a.s.sault you or these gentlemen. Yet you have attempted my life, sir, a second time. But you are now in my power, and by h.e.l.l! if you do not answer the questions I put to you, nothing earthly shall save you."

"If you ask aught I may not answer, fire!" said the major; "I will never ask life from such as you."

"Have you seen aught of Sir Luke Rookwood?" asked d.i.c.k.

"The villain you mean is not yet secured," replied the major, "but we have traces of him. 'Tis with a view of procuring more efficient a.s.sistance that I ride to town."

"They have not met then, since?" said d.i.c.k, carelessly.

"Met! whom do you mean?"

"Your sister and Sir Luke," said d.i.c.k.

"My sister meet him!" cried the major, angrily--"think you he dares show himself at Rookwood?"

"Ho! ho!" laughed d.i.c.k--"she _is_ at Rookwood, then? A thousand thanks, major. Good night to you, gentlemen."

"Take that with you, and remember the guard," cried the fellow, who, unable to take aim from where he sat, had crept along the coach roof, and discharged thence one of his large horse-pistols at what he took to be the highwayman's head, but which, luckily for d.i.c.k, was his hat, which he had raised to salute the pa.s.sengers.

"Remember you," said d.i.c.k, coolly replacing his perforated beaver on his brow; "you may rely upon it, my fine fellow, I'll not forget you the next time we meet."

And off he went like the breath of the whirlwind.

_CHAPTER VIII_

_ROADSIDE INN_

_Moor._ Take my horse, and dash a bottle of wine over him. 'Twas hot work.

SCHILLER: _The Robbers_.

We will now make inquiries after Mr. Coates and his party, of whom both we and d.i.c.k Turpin have for some time lost sight. With unabated ardor the vindictive man of law and his myrmidons pressed forward. A tacit compact seemed to have been entered into between the highwayman and his pursuers, that he was to fly while they were to follow. Like bloodhounds, they kept steadily upon his trail; nor were they so far behind as d.i.c.k imagined. At each post-house they pa.s.sed they obtained fresh horses, and, while these were saddling, a postboy was despatched _en courrier_ to order relays at the next station. In this manner they proceeded after the first stoppage without interruption. Horses were in waiting for them, as they, "b.l.o.o.d.y with spurring, fiery hot with haste,"

and their jaded hacks arrived. Turpin had been heard or seen in all quarters. Turnpike-men, waggoners, carters, trampers, all had seen him.

Besides, strange as it may sound, they placed some faith in his word.

York they believed would be his destination.

At length the coach which d.i.c.k had encountered hove in sight. There was another stoppage and another hubbub. The old gentleman's nightcap was again manifested, and suffered a sudden occultation, as upon the former occasion. The postboy, who was in advance, had halted, and given up his horse to Major Mowbray, who exchanged his seat on the box for one on the saddle, deeming it more expedient, after his interview with Turpin, to return to Rookwood, rather than to proceed to town. The postboy was placed behind Coates, as being the lightest weight; and, thus reinforced, the party pushed forward as rapidly as heretofore.

Eighty and odd miles had now been traversed--the boundary of another county, Northampton, pa.s.sed; yet no rest nor respite had d.i.c.k Turpin or his unflinching mare enjoyed. But here he deemed it fitting to make a brief halt.

Bordering the beautiful domains of Burleigh House stood a little retired hostelry of some antiquity, which bore the great Lord Treasurer's arms.

With this house d.i.c.k was not altogether unacquainted. The lad who acted as ostler was known to him. It was now midnight, but a bright and beaming night. To the door of the stable then did he ride, and knocked in a peculiar manner. Reconnoitering d.i.c.k through a broken pane of gla.s.s in the lintel, and apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, the lad thrust forth a head of hair as full of straw as Mad Tom's is represented to be upon the stage. A chuckle of welcome followed his sleepy salutation. "Glad to see you, Captain Turpin," said he; "can I do anything for you?"

"Get me a couple of bottles of brandy and a beefsteak," said d.i.c.k.

"As to the brandy, you can have that in a jiffy--but the steak, Lord love you, the old ooman won't stand it at this time; but there's a cold round, mayhap a slice of that might do--or a knuckle of ham?"

"A pest on your knuckles, Ralph," cried d.i.c.k; "have you any raw meat in the house?"

"Raw meat!" echoed Ralph, in surprise. "Oh, yes, there's a rare rump of beef. You can have a cut off that, if you like."

"That's the thing I want," said d.i.c.k, ungirthing his mare. "Give me the sc.r.a.per. There, I can get a whisp of straw from your head. Now run and get the brandy. Better bring three bottles. Uncork 'em, and let me have half a pail of water to mix with the spirit."

"A pail full of brandy and water to wash down a raw steak! My eyes!"

exclaimed Ralph, opening wide his sleepy peepers; adding, as he went about the execution of his task, "I always thought them Rum-padders, as they call themselves, rum fellows, but now I'm sartin sure on it."

The most sedulous groom could not have bestowed more attention upon the horse of his heart than d.i.c.k Turpin now paid to his mare. He sc.r.a.ped, chafed, and dried her, sounded each muscle, traced each sinew, pulled her ears, examined the state of her feet, and, ascertaining that her "withers were un-wrung," finally washed her from head to foot in the diluted spirit, not, however, before he had conveyed a thimbleful of the liquid to his own parched throat, and replenished what Falstaff calls a "pocket-pistol," which he had about him. While Ralph was engaged in rubbing her down after her bath, d.i.c.k occupied himself, not in dressing the raw steak in the manner the stable-boy had antic.i.p.ated, but in rolling it round the bit of his bridle.

"She will now go as long as there's breath in her body," said he, putting the flesh-covered iron within her mouth.

The saddle being once more replaced, after champing a moment or two at the bit, Bess began to snort and paw the earth, as if impatient of delay; and, acquainted as he was with her indomitable spirit and power, her condition was a surprise even to d.i.c.k himself. Her vigor seemed inexhaustible, her vivacity was not a whit diminished, but, as she was led into the open s.p.a.ce, her step became as light and free as when she started on her ride, and her sense of sound as quick as ever. Suddenly she p.r.i.c.ked her ears, and uttered a low neigh. A dull tramp was audible.

"Ha!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, springing into his saddle; "they come."

"Who come, captain?" asked Ralph.