Dick o' the Fens Part 50

"Hear that, neighbour?" said Dave, looking at Hickathrift. "Think o'

the fen wi'out the shakes."

"We can't stop, Dave," cried d.i.c.k; "because we've got to get home, for Mr Marston to walk over to the sea-bank to-night; but I'll come over and see you to-morrow and bring you something. What would you like?"

"What you heven't got, Mester d.i.c.k," said the fen-man, showing his yellow teeth. "Bit of opium or a drop o' lodolum. Nay, I don't want you to send me owt. Neighbour Hick'thrift here'll get me some when he goes over to market."

Hickathrift nodded, and after a little more conversation the party returned toward the boat.

"Straange and thick to-night, Mester d.i.c.k," said Dave. "Be thicker soon. Yow couldn't pole the boat across wi'out losing your way."

"Couldn't I?" cried d.i.c.k. "Oh, yes, I could! Good-night! I want you to show Mr Marston some sport with the ducks some day."

"Ay; you bring him over, Mester d.i.c.k, and we'll hev' a good turn at the 'coy. Good-night!"

They pushed off, and before they were fifty yards from the sh.o.r.e the boat seemed to enter a bank of mist, so thick that the wheelwright, as he poled, was almost invisible from where Mr Marston and d.i.c.k were seated.

"I say, Hicky, turn back and let's go along the edge of the fog," cried d.i.c.k.

"Nay, it's driftin' ower us," replied the wheelwright. "Best keep on and go reight through."

"Go on, then," cried d.i.c.k. "Feel how cold and damp it is."

"Feel it, d.i.c.k? Yes; and right in my wounded arm."

"Does it hurt much?"

"No; only aches. Why, how dense it is!"

"Can you find your way?"

"Dunno, mester. Best keep straight on, I think. Dessay it'll soon pa.s.s over."

But it did not soon pa.s.s over; and as the wheelwright pushed on it seemed to be into a denser mist than ever.

For a long time they were going over perfectly clear water; but soon the rustling of reeds against the prow of the boat told that they must be going wrong, and Hickathrift bore off to the right till the reeds warned him to bear to the left. And so it went on, with the night falling, and the thick mist seeming to shut them in, and so confusing him that at last the wheelwright said:

"Best wait a bit, Mester d.i.c.k. I dunno which way I'm going, and it's like being blind."

"Here, let me have the pole!" cried d.i.c.k. And going to the front of the boat, the wheelwright good-humouredly gave way for him, with the result that the lad vigorously propelled the craft for the s.p.a.ce of about ten minutes, ending by driving it right into a reed-bed and stopping short.

"Oh, I say, here's a muddle!" he cried. "You can't see where you are going in the least."

"Shall I try?" said Mr Marston.

"Yes, do, please," cried d.i.c.k, eager to get out of his difficulty.

"Take the pole."

"No, thank you," was the laughing reply. "I cannot handle a pole, and as to finding my way through this fog I could as soon fly."

_Bang_!

A heavy dull report of a gun from close by, and Hickathrift started aside and nearly went overboard, but recovered himself, and sat down panting.

"Here! hi! Mind where you're shooting!" cried d.i.c.k. "Who's that?"

He stared in the direction from which the sound had come, but nothing but mist was visible, and no answer came.

"Do you hear? Who's that?" shouted d.i.c.k with both his hands to his mouth.

No answer came, and Hickathrift now shouted.

Still no reply. His great sonorous voice seemed to return upon him, as if he were enveloped in a tremendous tent of wet flannel; and though he shouted again and again it was without result.

"Why, what's the matter with your hand, man?" cried Mr Marston, as the wheelwright took his cotton kerchief from his neck, and began to bind it round his bleeding palm.

"Nowt much, sir," said the man smiling.

"Why, Hickathrift, were you hit?"

"S'pose I weer, sir. Something came with a whuzz and knocked my hand aside."

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed d.i.c.k; while Mr Marston sat with his heart beating, since in spite of his efforts to be cool he could not help recalling the evening when he was shot, and he glanced round, expecting to see a flash and hear another report.

d.i.c.k seized the pole which he had laid down, and, thrusting it down, forced the punt back from the reeds, and then, as soon as they were in open water, began to toil as hard as he could for a few minutes till the wheelwright relieved him. Declaring his injury to be a trifle, he in turn worked hard with the pole till, after running into the reeds several times, and more than once striking against patches of bog and rush, they must have got at least a mile from where the shot was fired, by accident or purposely, when the great fellow sat down very suddenly in the bottom of the boat.

As he seated himself he laid the pole across, and then without warning fell back fainting dead away.

A few minutes, however, only elapsed before he sat up again and looked round.

"Bit sick," he said. "That's all. Heven't felt like that since one o'

squire's horses kicked me and broke my ribs. Better now."

"My poor fellow, your hand must be badly hurt!" said Mr Marston; while d.i.c.k looked wildly on, scared by what was taking place.

"Nay, it's nowt much, mester," said the great fellow rather huskily, "and we'd best wait till the mist goes. It's no use to pole. We may be going farther away, like as not."

d.i.c.k said nothing, but stood listening, fancying he heard the splash of a pole in water; but there was no sound save the throbbing of his own heart to break the silence, and he quite started as Mr Marston spoke.

"How long is this mist likely to last?"

"Mebbe an hour, mebbe a week," was the unsatisfactory reply. "Bud when the moon rises theer may come a breeze, and then it'll go directly."

Hickathrift rested his chin upon his uninjured hand, and d.i.c.k sat down in silence, for by one consent, and influenced by the feeling that some stealthy foe might be near at hand keen-eyed enough to see them through the fog, or at all events cunning enough to trace them by sound, they sat and waited for the rising of the moon.

The time seemed to be drawn out to a terrible extent before there was a perceptible lightening on their left; and as soon as he saw that, though the mist was as thick as ever, Hickathrift rose and began to work with the pole, for he knew his bearings now by the position of the rising moon, and working away, in half an hour the little party emerged from the mist as suddenly as they had dived in, but they were far wide of their destination, and quite another hour elapsed before they reached the old willow-stump, where the wheelwright made fast his boat, and a.s.suring his companions that there was nothing much wrong he went to his cottage, while Mr Marston gladly accompanied d.i.c.k to the Toft, feeling after the shock they had had that even if it had not been so late, a walk down to the sea-beach that night would neither be pleasant nor one to undertake.

d.i.c.k was boiling over with impatience, and told his father the news the moment they entered the room where supper was waiting.