Lochinvar: A Novel

"And then," said Scarlett, with conviction, "I had liefer take my chance with Marie, the sinner, than with Barra or Kersland, those precious and well-considered saints."

Wat Gordon said not a word. But he stood a longer space than for his own safety he ought, leaning upon the long handle of his spade and looking at the fresh, moist sand which alone marked the grave of the Little Marie in the waste.

The defeat which had befallen the forces of Haxo was final enough, for among the rank and file there was not the least desire to pursue the conflict for its own sake. And, moreover, the death of so many of their companions was sufficient to intimidate the survivors. Yet Wat and Scarlett were by no means free from danger. For one thing, both Haxo and the fugitives from the party of their assailants were perfectly acquainted with their identity, and the fact of Wat's being an escaped prisoner of the State was quite enough to bring upon them more legitimate though not less dangerous enemies.

By following circuitous and secluded paths, Wat and Scarlett found their way to a wooden shed on the verges of the cultivated land. The lower floors were evidently used in the winter for cattle, but the upper parts were still half full of hay, long and coarse, cut from the polders which lay at the back of the dunes.

Here among the rough, fragrant, pleasant hay the two men lay down, and Wat fell instantly asleep – the training of his old days in the heather returning to him, and in combination with the fatigues and anxieties of the night and morning, causing him to forget the manifold dangers of his position. Scarlett, having apparently left sleep behind him with his drowsy regiment, occupied himself dourly in making up the account of the pays still due to him by the paymaster of his corps, shaking his head and grumbling as each item was added to the formidable column, not a solitary stiver of which he could ever hope to receive.

It was again growing dusk when Wat awoke, much refreshed by his sleep. He found Scarlett leaning on his elbow and watching him with grim amusement.

"I suppose," he said, "once I was a fool and fathoms deep in love as well as you. But I do not believe that ever I slept in this fashion – saying over and over, 'Kate, dear Kate,' all the time, in a voice like a calf bleating for a milk-pail on the other side of the gate."

Wat turned his head and pretended not to hear. He was in no mood to barter windy compliments with Jack Scarlett, who on his part loved nothing better, save only wine and a pretty woman. The grave of the girl who had died for love of him was too new under the dunes of Lis; the fate of his own true-love too dark and uncertain.

So soon, therefore, as it grew dusk enough, Wat and Scarlett betook themselves without further speech down to the little harbor, to see what might be obtained there in the way of a boat to convey them out of Holland. At first they had some thought of getting a fisherman to land them at Hamburg, whence it would be easy enough to take passage either to England or to Scotland, as they might decide.

The town of Lis was small, and its harbor but a shallow basin into which at high-water half a dozen fishing-boats at most might enter. There were few people about the long, straggling, shoreward street, and there was none of the cheerful bustle and animation characteristic of a Dutch town at evening. For many of the men were away serving in the armies of the States-General, and most of the others were at the fishing off the banks of Texil. In the harbor itself they saw nothing to suit their purpose, and none at whom to ask a question. Nor did so much as a dog bark at them.

But on the shingle outside of the harbor, at a place where a ledge of rock ran up out of the sea, with the waves gently washing one side of it, there was drawn up a ship's boat of moderate dimensions, and beside it, seated on the stern with his legs dangling over the painted name, lounged a curious-looking individual, smoking a short, small-bowled pipe. He was a youth, of years numbering somewhere between eighteen and thirty – of the sleek-faced, beardless sort that does not change much for twenty years. The most boundless self-sufficiency marked his appearance and attitude. When he saw Wat and Scarlett approach he rose lazily, stretched his long, lank legs, turned his back on them in a marked manner, and gazed seaward from under the level palm of his hand.

"I bid you good-evening," said Scarlett, saluting Sir Stork as politely as if he had been the stadtholder of Lis; "can you tell us if in this town there are any boats that may be hired to take certain passengers to Rotterdam?"

For they thought it well, in any bargaining, to give out that city as their port, and to change the destination after they had got to sea – by persuasion or by force of arms, if necessary.

"That do I not," replied the unknown, promptly, in good English, though Scarlett had spoken in Dutch.

"But the boat upon which you are leaning?" pursued Scarlett, "is she not a vessel which a man may hire for a just price?"

The lad took three draws of his pipe in a consequential way before answering. He tapped the bowl meditatively on his thigh.

"This boat," he said, at length, "of which I am in charge, is the property of Captain Smith, of the Sea Unicorn, a distinguished English merchantman, burgess of the town of Poole – and I am responsible for her safekeeping till such time as she can be conveyed to that town."

"It is indeed both an onerous and an honorable task," quoth Scarlett, "and one that could only be intrusted to a man of sense and probity – and I am sure from your appearance that you are both."

Wat Gordon was getting tired of this bandying of words, and showed symptoms of breaking in. But as the youth looked seaward Scarlett dug his companion in the side with his elbow, in token that he was to be silent. Old Jack had an idea.

"Captain Smith was perhaps overtaken by the late storm," he said, warily, "and so compelled to leave his long-boat behind him?"

"Aye, and Wise Jan Pettigrew (for so I am nominated in all Poole and Branksea) was left in charge of it," said the youth, with proud consequence. "An important cargo was taken out to the Sea Unicorn in this boat, I warrant, and one that will bring a high price when Captain Smith comes to reckon charges with the owner of that pretty thing."

"Ah, Wise Master Jan Pettigrew, but you carry as pretty a wit and as shrewd a tongue in that head of yours as I have met with for many a day," said Scarlett, in a tone of high admiration.

"So – so," said Jan Pettigrew, complacently crossing his legs again on the boat and taking deeper and deeper whiffs of his refilled pipe.

"Aye, marry! a shrewd tongue and a biting. And whither might this treasure be going?" asked Wat, with more anxiety on his face than he ought to have shown. Scarlett darted an angry glance at him, and the tallowy youth, taking his pipe out of his mouth and holding it in his hand, regarded him with slowly dawning suspicion.

"The matter is naturally a secret of my noble employer's," he replied, with dignity, "and of Captain Smith's. It has not been communicated to me with the idea of my retailing it to any chance idler on the beach who happens to come asking insolent questions."

"Certainly you are right, and very well said, Master Pettigrew," said Scarlett, with admiration. "Wat, my lad, that settles you, I am thinking. The gentleman has his secrets, and he means to keep them. And mightily prudent of him, too. But as to this boat," he went on, "your master cannot mean you to take her along the coast by yourself all the way to meet him in Hamburg?"

"My master has not gone to Hamburg," cried Jan Pettigrew, "but first of all to his own town of Poole, or at least to a place near by, which is also a secret with himself and with those who have the honor to serve him, and in whom he reposes confidence."

Scarlett once more glanced round reprovingly at Wat.

"Ah, let this be a lesson to you, young sirrah," he said; "see how carefully and yet how politely this gentleman can keep his master's secrets? Truly, this is a fellow to be trusted."

Wise Jan Pettigrew puffed and blew upon his pipe with such swelling importance, that finally he choked and went off into a fit of coughing which threatened to end him once for all. For he was but loosely hung together, of bilious complexion, and with a weak, hollow chest. But all the time of his coughing he was struggling to tell something which pleased him, choking at once with laughter and with the reek which had gone the wrong way when Scarlett tickled his vanity with flattering words.

"Oo-hoo," he cried, chokingly, "and the cream of the joke —oo-hoo– is that the captain, being a widower, is sure to fall in love with the lass himself. And at Poole town, when his madcap daughter comes aboard at Branksea, as she ever does, I warrant it that she makes the fur to fly. Would that I had been there to see! 'Twill be a rare lillibullero! She'll pipe up Bob's-a-dying!"

Wat's eyes gleamed like a flame, but Scarlett darted a side-look under his brows at him, so swift and fierce that he started back and was silent. "For the love of God," the look said, "hold your fool's tongue and let me finish what I have begun."

"Master Jan Pettigrew," quoth Scarlett, still more seductively, "you are a man after my own heart. Fain would I go a little cruise, as it might be for pleasure, with a man of your wit and discretion. I tell thee what – Captain Smith cannot be back for a long season. Now we two are anxious to go on a little pleasure-trip to England. There is a mast in the boat. The wind and weather are fair. We have both of us got good Dutch guilders in our pouches. You, like other brave campaigners, have, I doubt not, both sore need of such and a bonny young lass of your own in Poole, or elsewhere, to spend them upon. Why should not we three put the boat's head towards England this fine brisk night, with the wind in our quarter, and boldly steer our way thither? Would it not surprise Captain Smith greatly and make much for your advancement if he should see his long-boat come sailing in after him safe and sound? And how famous would Master Jan Pettigrew be then! Why, every coastwise ship-master would be eager to give him a fine vessel to command, on the strength of such a deed of seamanship! – while all the maids would go wild for his favor, and the home-staying lads would run crazy for very green envy for him."

As Scarlett spoke the pursing of Jan Pettigrew's mouth gradually slackened and the corners widened, till his countenance became in truth a finely open one – most like that of the monk-fish when he lies at the bottom of the sea with his jaws wide for sticklebacks and codlings to venture within. At the picture of his triumphant return his dull eyes glistened, and when Scarlett spoke of his fortune among the maids, he slid down from the boat and slapped his thigh.

"Ods fegs, I'll risk it – I have more than half a mind. But" – he scratched his head and hesitated – "the provisions for such a cruise – they will cost much?"

He looked cunningly at Scarlett, who motioned with his hand behind him to Wat. Lochinvar slid an arm about his waist and undid his belt, from which he took a couple of gold pieces. These he put into Scarlett's beckoning palm.

"The provisions, sayest thou?" quoth Scarlett, deftly jerking one of these into his pocket. "Have no care for that. Here is one piece of gold for you – go into the village of Lis and buy whatever may be necessary for our voyage. And," he continued, "there is no need to tell a man of the understanding of Jan Pettigrew that, when talking to the yokels of Lis, we are only going a little voyage to the Banks to catch the saith and limber-cod."

Scarlett rubbed his finger along the side of his nose with such contagious cunning that Jan also rubbed his and leered back at him in as knowing a manner.

"Trust Wise Jan," he said; "not a word shall they know from me – I am as deep in counsel as a draw-well. There is no bucket can draw aught from my mind unless my will be the rope to pull it up withal."

"Haste you, then," said Scarlett; "speak not to the people at all, for safety's sake, but come back quickly with the provender. And in the mean time my friend and I will fill the casks and beakers with water, so that we may be ready to start as soon as you return."

CHAPTER XXIII

WISE JAN WAXES WISER

Jan Pettigrew started with the gold piece in his hand to get the provisions in the town of Lis-op-Zee. So soon as he was out of sight Wat Gordon was in the long-boat hunting about like a terrier dog. His eye had caught the least touch of bright color among the rubbish in the stern of the boat. He was on his knees presently, holding a bit of ribbon in his fingers which in hue appeared like the stone called aquamarine, or, as one would say, blue and green at the same time. He pressed it with passion to his lips.

"It is my love's!" he cried. "It is most surely hers. Thrice I saw her wear it about her beautiful neck! She must have sat in this boat not so many hours since."

"And what else do you suppose I have been getting out of that incredible lout, all the while you were staring at this bit of ribbon and trying to get in your silly word and spoil everything?" said Scarlett, testily. For sleeplessness and his companion's impatience had certainly been trying to the temper.

But Wat continued to cherish his ribbon to the exclusion of all else. He had had but little to feed his affection upon, poor lad, ever since he had been clapped behind iron bars – and, indeed, not so very much before that.

Wat and Scarlett carried the cask and beakers to a spring which they found in an old overgrown garden not far from the harbor. They made a convenient stretcher by removing part of the rough decking from the bottom of the long-boat, and carrying the vessels to and fro upon that. They had hardly returned for the last time when they descried Wise Jan Pettigrew coming back along the shore with a whole army of helpers at his tail, carrying parcels and packages innumerable. He was in the full tide of discourse to them.

"Ye see, lads," he was saying, as he came up, "my father was a man from Amersfort that came to England; and desiring to settle there, he had dealings with my mother, who was a farmer's daughter in the county of Dorset. And in due time he married her – yes, in good sooth, he married her, and that is why I am called Jan Pettigrew. For my father must have me called Jan. He would hear of nothing else. Whereat my mother, not to be beaten, swore that some part of my name should carry with it a good old English smell. So Jan Pettigrew I was christened, of my mother's surname, with my father standing by and never daring so much as to say a word!"

The louts of Lis were chuckling and nudging each other with suppressed laughter, for it was obvious that Wise Jan Pettigrew had been looking most unwisely upon the Hollands when it gave its color aright in the cup. However, they hastened to plant their parcels and stores in the long-boat, and meantime they gazed with wide-open eyes at Wat and Scarlett.

"These honest gentlemen," said the wise and reticent Jan, "are for the fishing. Oh yes, they are for the fishing" – his finger went to his nose – "you all understand, lads, the fishing. Then when we come back to Lis here to make a declaration to the burgomeister of the number and weight of the fine fish we have taken on the Banks, why, there will be drink at the Three Castles for every honest fellow here!"

He would have said more, but Scarlett, growing suddenly tired of his clatter, tumbled him unceremoniously into the boat, and cried out to the men of Lis:

"Here's good silver for whoever will give us a hand that the boat may be launched – silver to drink the health of the prince this very night at the inn of Lis in sound, stark Hollands!"

The men and boys, hearing this, gave a rousing cheer, and setting their strength to the long-boat of the Sea Unicorn, they rattled it down the pebbles and out into the heave and murmur of the incoming tide. Scarlett ran his hands through the pockets of Jan Pettigrew's clothing, and handed all the small silver which he found there – a round handful – to the tallest of the 'prentice lads.

"There," he said, "drink the prince's health, and if there be any over, drink to the health of Captain Smith of the Sea Unicorn, and of all his crew and passengers."

And at this liberal and comprehensive toast the lads on shore again cheered, as men with drink in prospect will cheer at anything.

There was still a rousing breeze astern, and making Jan Pettigrew keep awake so that he might at least direct them in the necessary manœuvres, Wat and Scarlett proceeded to erect the mast and unbend the sail with ignorant, unseamanlike hands. But after a little, under guidance, they did featly enough, so that the distance widened, and they saw with delight the shores of Holland drop back and the solemn, waffing windmills stand up in a long row out of the polder.

"Now for England and Kate!" cried Wat, as though they had already found both.

Jan Pettigrew, who had become noisier and more oracular, so soon as he found himself on the lift and heave of the sea, and the boat began to cradle buoyantly among the short waves, cried out to Wat and Scarlett to set the foresail. This Wat attempted to do, but, though he found the small triangular sail readily enough, he could neither attach it to the bowsprit nor yet bend it properly.

Then Jack Scarlett did a thing which exceedingly astonished Master Jan. That wise youth was lying in the stern-sheets, with his pipe in his hand, content to issue commands, and laughing and sneering at the landsmen's awkward manner of executing them.

When he had ordered them for the third time to bend the foresail, Scarlett turned on him and very curtly bade him do it himself and look spry. Jan, the self-satisfied one, could scarce believe his ears. He felt astounded, his pipe went out, his jaw began to fall and his mouth to open as it had done while he listened to Scarlett's eloquence on the shore.

But Scarlett was in a different mood this time. He simply repeated his advice in a louder tone.

Then Wise Jan Pettigrew grew sulky and pointedly declined, asserting that he had not come upon this particular cruise for the purpose of pulling ropes with two greenhorns to do it for him. As the words left his mouth he felt something cold touch his right temple. He turned rapidly, and the movement brought his entire cheek against the cold bell mouth of a horse-pistol. The self-satisfaction flickered out of his face. His gin-reddened cheek whitened to chalk, and he began to tremble violently in all his limbs.

"Get up and bend the foresail without a word more!" quoth Scarlett, sternly, "and remember for the remainder of this cruise you will do very precisely as you are bid."

Jan, being upon compulsion really wise, instantly and without a murmur complied. In a minute the foresail was properly bent and also a little square-sail in the stern – which last had a great effect in steadying the boat in the cross winds which were now whipping the tops off the waves and driving the spray over the boat, as they sat under the shelter of the windward side.

Presently Scarlett began to explain the situation to Jan Pettigrew. He told him that though he must be ready to work the boat in all matters of seamanship, yet both of the others would assist him to the best of their ability. He must, however, be willing to go where they wished and to obey their orders. In the event of their cruise being successful he was to receive ten gold pieces. And even if it were not, in the event of his proving faithful and silent, he should have five for his pains – which was a great deal more than he would have received on many voyages from Captain Smith of the Sea Unicorn.

At first Jan lay sulkily enough in the bow of the boat and pretended to pay no attention to Scarlett's words. But presently he grumbled, "How can I or any man take a boat to England without so much as a compass or a chart?"

"That is not my business," said Scarlett; "it is surely a strange seaman that cannot keep a boat to its course for a few miles by the stars. All I know is that if you do it not I shall be compelled most reluctantly to blow your brains out, and let your carcass drop overboard to feed the fishes."

He pronounced this in so matter-of-fact a voice that the lad came instantly aft, and began to search carefully in the side lockers and drawers. Two of these were locked and had to be opened with the blade of Scarlett's dagger. Wat cut away part of the wood round the wards of the lock, into which aperture Jan inserted an iron spike that lay in the bottom of the boat, whereupon the locks gave sharply in both cases. In one compartment was a small compass, and in the other a sheaf of charts.

* * * * *

When the morning broke on the third day of their cruise a long, low island was in sight immediately in front. Then a flat coast with rolling country stretched away behind, with many woods shining palely green, and looking newly washed as the morning sun sucked the night dews from the leaves. An ancient castle stood gray and stern on the left, and far to the right the tower of a noble church took the sun and gleamed like the white sail of a ship.

Wise Jan Pettigrew, who had long since composed himself to all his duties and become the devoted slave of Jack Scarlett (whom his eyes followed with a kind of rapt adoration), pointed with his finger.

"Branksea!" he cried, with pride both in voice and gesture.

And indeed he had some reason for self-congratulation. For the cross channel voyage in an open boat, together with a long trip down the coast, had not often been so successfully undertaken.

Keeping the boat well to the left, they rounded a low spit of shingle and turned in sharply towards a tiny landing-place, from which a neat path extended up into the woods.

A flag was flying among the trees and making a splash of brave color among the greenery.

CHAPTER XXIV

MADCAP MEHITABEL

The long-boat grated on the beach and Wise Jan was the first ashore. Scarlett and Wat disembarked in more leisurely fashion, and stretched themselves luxuriously after their long and cramped boat voyage.

They were employing themselves in taking out of the stern such articles as they had stowed there, when a challenging voice rang out clear and high from the woods above.

"Jan Pettigrew! Jan Pettigrew!" it cried, "what do you here with our long-boat? Why are you not in the Low Countries, making love to the little Dutch maids with faces like flat-irons?"

"No, they ain't neither," cried Wise Jan, apparently not at all astonished, making a face in the direction of his unseen querist; "they're a sight better-looking than you be – and they comb their hair!"

He looked apologetically at Scarlett.

"Heed her not," he said, in a low voice, "'tis but crosspatch Mehitabel Smith, our master's daughter. He has spoilt her by sparing of the wand to beat her with when she was young, and now that she is grown – and well grown, too – she will be forever climbing trees and crying uncivil words to decent folk as they go by, and all, as she counts it, for merriment and mischief-making."

"Ah, Jan! Wise Jan Pettigrew," the voice went on, "Jan that drank the cow's milk and gave the calf water, because it was better for its stomach – you are right early astir. And who are the brisk lads with you? I know not that my father will be pleased to see strangers on Branksea. Hold up your head, Jan, and learn to answer a lady civilly. You have surely forgot or mislaid all the manners you ever had. Shut your mouth, Jan – I do advise it; and do not, I pray you, so mump with your chin and wamble with your legs!"

"Madcap!" cried Jan, stung by the pointed allusions to his defects of person, "my legs are as straight as yours be, and serve me well, albeit I wrap them not, as women do, in clouts and petticoats. And at least if my legs are crooked and my jaw slack my eyes are straight set in my head."

"And if eyes do look two ways," retorted the voice out of the unseen, "'tis only with trying to keep them on the antics of both Jan Pettigrew's legs at once; for your knees do so knock together like Spanish castanets, and your legs so jimble-jamble in their sockets, that 'tis as good as a puppet-with-strings dancing at the fair just to watch 'em!"