Book: The Blue Pavilions

S >> Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller Couch >> The Blue Pavilions




"I begin to see that this way back to Harwich has its difficulties as
well as the other," sighed Tristram while they changed their suits.
This reflection threw him into a melancholy which lasted throughout
the day, insomuch that he hardly found heart to go on deck, but sat
on his bench in the cabin, feeding his heart on the prospect of
Sophia's joy at his return and listening to his father, who sat and
whistled on the cabin hatch, to the thuds of the towing-horse's
hoofs, and to the monotonous "huy!" and "vull!" of the boatman
whenever their barge encountered another and one of the twain
slackened rope to allow passage.

Occasionally they were hailed from the bank by travellers who desired
to journey downstream; but the invariable answer was that this barge
had been hired by a nobleman who wished to travel without company and
at his leisure. As Tristram, however, knew nothing of the Dutch
language, he imagined these to be but kindly salutations of the
inhabitants designed to enliven a voyage which (as he judged) must be
inexpressibly tedious to anyone who made it with any other purpose
than that of being restored to Sophia's embrace.

Towards sunset he went on deck, and observed his father steadily
gazing at the left bank of the canal, parallel to which, and at a
distance of five hundred yards or less, there ran an embankment with
a highroad along the top of it. Following the direction of Captain
Salt's eyes, he descried a party of four horsemen about half a mile
behind them advancing down this road at a steady trot. The Captain
had paused in his whistling--which had been pretty continuous all
day--and was regarding these horsemen with great interest.

"I do not like them," he said reflectively, and spoke a few words to
the steersman, who glanced back over his shoulder.

"You have met them before?" Tristram inquired.

"Not that I know of. Nevertheless, I do not like them."

Tristram thought this odd, for it was impossible at that distance to
descry the features of the riders.

"We will go below," his father announced, rising in a leisurely
manner.

They did so, and stood by the cabin door, so that their forms were
hidden while they could see perfectly all that passed on the bank.
The four horsemen drew near and trotted by at the same pace without
seeming to turn their heads towards the canal. Two rode horses of a
dark bay colour, the third a dapple grey, and the fourth a sorrel.
As soon as they had passed out of sight, Captain Salt ascended to the
deck again and entered into a long conversation in Dutch with the fat
boatman. As this did not amuse Tristram any more than the windmills
of which the scenery was mainly composed, he remained below and,
stretching himself again on the bench, began to dream of Sophia.

Three hours later he awoke, said his prayers, and was preparing to go
to sleep again, when his father entered the cabin.

"Hullo! What are you doing?"

"I was just thanking Heaven, which, against my inclinations, makes
our journey a slow one."

"You do not wish to reach home in a hurry?"

"On the contrary, I desire it ardently. But having remarked that
whenever I travel fast I am either seasick or jolted raw, I feel
grateful for every restraint put upon my ardour."

"In that case I almost fear to announce that we shall move faster
to-morrow."

"I am willing to be coerced," said Tristram, and dropped off again.

It was but an hour after dawn when his father aroused him. The boat
lay moored by a little quay, beyond which his eye travelled to
clusters of red roofs glowing in the easterly sunshine, and a
dominant spire, the weathercock of which dazzled the eye with its
brightness. The town was just waking up, as could be perceived from
the blue wreaths of smoke that poured out of the chimneys.

Captain Salt was in an evident hurry. Without giving Tristram time
to wash in the fore-cabin, he hustled him on shore and up a narrow
street to an inn, over the archway of which hung the sign of a White
Lamb with a flag between its forelegs. Here they rang a bell, and
were admitted after ten minutes by a sleepy chambermaid, who led them
upstairs to a low-browed sitting-room facing the street, as they
perceived when she drew back the shutters. At the back of this room
lay two bedchambers; and Tristram withdrew into the nearer, while his
father ordered breakfast.

It happened that these two bedrooms overlooked a broad court or
stable-yard behind the White Lamb. Captain Salt, having given his
instructions, retired, whistling cheerfully, to perform his toilet.
He was in the best of spirits, and broke now and again into snatches
of song, which he trolled out in a tenor voice of great richness and
flexibility. Tristram listened in admiration on the other side of
the partition. The songs were those of Tom d'Urfey and his
imitators, and dealt in a strain of easy sentimentality with
hay-rakes, milking-pails and all the apparatus of a country life
as etherealised by a cockney fancy; but the Captain sang with
such a gusto, such bravura, and such an appealing tremolo in the
pathetic passages, that you might have mistaken the splashing of
water in his basin, as he broke off to wash his face, for tears of
uncontrollable regret that he had not been born a "swain" (as he put
it). Suddenly, however, one of his roulades ceased with more
abruptness than usual and the enchanted Tristram waited in vain for
the ditty to be resumed. The fact was that Captain Salt had glanced
out of the window and seen at a stable door across the court a man
stooping with his back to the inn and washing down the legs of a dark
bay horse.

The Captain contemplated this group for a moment; then hastily
donning his coat and turning into the parlour looked out upon the
street.

Immediately under the signboard of the White Lamb, and before the
front-door, stood a couple of men who chatted as they passed a
tankard of beer to each other. Captain Salt could not see their
faces owing to the extreme width of their hat-brims. But he turned a
shade paler, and drawing back from the window stepped to the door,
which opened upon the landing. Moving softly to the balusters, he
peered over. Directly beneath him, at the foot of the stairs, sat
yet another man in a broad-brimmed hat, who was engaged very
tranquilly in polishing a pistol with an oily rag. The barrel
glimmered in the light that shone down the well of the staircase from
a skylight above Captain Salt's head.

He retired to the parlour again and, after trying the lock of the
door, walked to and fro in deep thought for awhile. Then, from the
bedroom, he fetched his sword and belt, with the two pistols which he
had carried throughout the journey. He was examining the priming of
these very narrowly when Tristram appeared, red and glowing from his
ablutions. Almost at the same instant footsteps were heard ascending
the stairs. The Captain went quickly to the door pistol in hand.

It was only the waitress, however, with the tray containing their
breakfast. He told her to set it down, looked at the tray and,
announcing that he was hungrier than he had imagined, desired her to
bring up a ham, another loaf, and four bottles of wine. Tristram
stared.

"You seem puzzled, my son."

"It is my turn again. Let me remind you that two days ago you
marvelled at my appetite."

"But this has to last us for a whole day, and perhaps longer."

"Are we not, then, to proceed farther to-day?"

"I doubt if we can."

"Decidedly this journey gets slower and slower."

The waitress came back with the additional provisions and set them on
the table. As soon as she was gone Captain Salt locked the door.

"Why is that?"

"Merely that I don't wish to be interrupted."

They ate their breakfast in silence. Tristram, as soon as it was
over, rose, and, strolling across the room, was about to gaze out
upon the street, when his father begged him to come away from the
window.

"Why?"

"My son, you should obey your father without questioning," the
Captain answered somewhat tartly.

"Forgive me."

Tristram had been taught to obey, but considering the wide views for
which this country was notorious, he began to reflect with
astonishment on the small amount he was able to see. Also he
remarked, as the morning wore on, that his father was perpetually at
one window or another, moving from parlour to bedroom and back, and
scanning now the street, now the stable-yard, yet always with a
certain amount of caution. Captain Salt, indeed, was gradually
working himself into a state of restless irritation. The man in the
stable-yard groomed away at the four horses, one after another,
saddled them, led them back to the stable again, then composed
himself to sleep on the stool outside the stable door, with a straw
in his mouth and his hat-brim well over his eyes. The others still
lounged in the sunshine before the inn door. He could hear the sound
of their voices and occasional laughter, but not the words of their
conversation.

It was about six in the evening when the Captain was struck with an
idea. At first it staggered him a little: then he thought it over
and looked at it from several sides. Each time he reviewed the plan
he got rid of a scruple or two, and by degrees began to like it
exceedingly. His restlessness diminished, and in the end he became
quite still.

Tristram, yawning before the fire, glanced up and found his father's
eyes fixed upon him.

"My company wearies you, dear lad?"

The dear lad disclaimed weariness. But Captain Salt advanced,
sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, Tristram; let us not deceive ourselves. I have done you a
wrong, for which you must forgive me. I hoped, by delaying your
return and keeping you near me--I hoped that perhaps--" Here he
sighed again, and appeared to struggle with an inward grief.
"Do not make it hard for me by bearing malice!" he implored, breaking
off his explanation.

"I don't quite understand. Are you telling me that you have kept me
here unnecessarily?"

"Alas! my boy--I hoped that your affection for me might grow with
this opportunity, as mine has grown for you."

Tristram thought that to spend a morning in pacing from one window to
another was an odd way of encouraging affection; but he merely
answered:

"My dear father, I have a confession to make."

"A confession?"

"One that will not only explain my eagerness to get home, but also
will, I trust, soothe your disappointment. The fact is, I am in
love."

"Oh! that certainly alters matters. With whom?"

"With Sophia."

"Who is Sophia?"

"She is Captain Runacles' only daughter, and lives on the other side
of our hedge."

"My dear lad, why did you not tell me this? Detain you! No.
You shall fly on the wings of the wind. We will set out this very
afternoon on the swiftest horses this inn can furnish."

Tristram winced. "There are limits even to a lover's zeal," he
murmured.

"No, no. Ah, my boy!--I too have been in love--I can find the key to
your feelings by searching my memory. May you be happier than I!"

He passed the back of his hand across his eyes and continued more
cheerfully, hilariously almost:

"But away with an old man's memories! I was young then, and ardent
as you. Nay, as I look upon you I see my very self reflected across
a score of sorrowful years. We are extraordinarily alike, Tristram.
Stand up and measure with me, back to back."

They did so. The Captain found himself the taller by a mere shade.

"It is the wig," he said. "Come, twist up your natural hair and let
me see you in this wig."

Tristram obeyed, and his father fell back in astonishment. "It is
extraordinary!"

"Certainly I perceive the likeness," admitted Tristram, contemplating
himself in the mirror that hung above the mantelpiece.

"It is nothing to what could be produced by the merest touch or two
of art. Give me five minutes, and I warrant you shall deceive the
waitress here."

He drew the curtain, took down a candle from the mantelshelf, lit it
and set it on the table; then, picking up the cork of an empty
bottle, held it to the flame for two seconds or so and began to
operate on his son's face.

"Ah!" he said, "to think that each wrinkle, each line, that I copy
with a piece of cork has been traced in the original by a separate
sorrow! Tristram, your presence makes me young again, young and
childish. And in return I make you old--a pretty recompense!"

Tristram, whose nature was profoundly serious, stood up very stiff
and blinked at the hand which wandered over his face, touching it
here and there as softly as with a feather.

"Are we not wasting time?" he protested.

"Not at all: and to prove it, I am about to send you downstairs to
order horses. It is wonderful! I wager the people of the inn shall
not know you. Order a couple of fleet horses to be waiting in an
hour from now: that will give us plenty of time to reach Nieupoort,
and take a night's rest before sailing to-morrow. Here, kick off
those clumsy boots and take mine; also my cloak here, and sword.
Your breeches and stockings will do. Afterwards you can stroll out
into the town, if you will, and purchase a keepsake for Sophia.
I, myself, will buy a ring at Nieupoort for you to fit upon her
pretty finger, if you succeed in tricking the folk below-stairs.
Farewell, my son, and God bless you!--only, be back within the hour."

As the door closed upon Tristram, Captain Salt advanced to the
keyhole and listened.

"A sound skin," he muttered to himself, "is better than a dull son.
Moreover, at the worst he'll be taken back to The Hague, and there
the Earl will keep him from me." He examined his pistols for a
moment, opened the door softly, and, creeping out on the landing,
began to listen with all his ears.

Meanwhile our hero marched downstairs, and, encountering the waitress
in the passage below, gave the order for the horses. The waitress
summoned a lethargic, round-bellied man from an inner parlour, who
bowed as well as his waist would let him, and straddled out to the
stables to repeat the order. Somewhat pleased to find he had not
been recognised, Tristram sauntered up the dusky passage and forth at
the front-door. As he passed out leisurably, he took careless note
of a party of three men seated a few paces to the right of the door
around a rough wooden table. On the other hand, the effect of his
exit upon this party was extraordinary. For a moment they gazed
after him, their faces expressing sheer amazement. Then they
whispered together and stared again. Finally all three stood on
their legs and buckled on their sword-belts. Two of them started off
to follow Tristram, who had by this time reached the street corner,
and was gazing up at the house fronts on each hand with rapt
interest. The third man waited until they had gone a dozen yards,
and then blew a whistle. In less than half a minute he was joined by
the man from the stable-yard, and after a short colloquy this pair
also linked arms and strolled up the street.

It was drawing towards sunset, and lights began to appear in several
of the houses as Tristram passed along. The few foot-passengers in
the street wished him "Good night" in the Dutch tongue, and he
answered their salutations amiably in English, guessing the good will
in their voices. He was greatly pleased, also, by the number of
villas and small gardens that diversified the houses of business,
each with a painted summer-house over-topping the wall and a painted
motto on the gate. He longed to explore these gardens and take home
to Harwich some report of the famous Dutch tulip-beds on which
Captain Barker was perpetually descanting. A row of these
garden-walls enticed him down a street to the right and out towards
the suburbs, where the prospect at the end of the road was closed by
a long line of windmills.

All this while he had been sauntering along at the idlest pace, with
a score of pauses. Suddenly he bethought him that it must be time to
return, and was about to do so when his eye was caught by a little
shop on the other side of the road. He could not read the
inscription above it; but the window was crowded with bulbs and roots
of all kinds and bags of seed in small stacks. He crossed the road
and entered the low door, meaning to buy a present for Sophia, whom
for the last half an hour he had completely forgotten.

The proprietor of the shop sat inside behind a low counter, reading a
book by the light of a defective oil-lamp, the smoke of which had
smeared the rafters in a large, irregular circle. He was a little,
wizened man, with a pair of horn spectacles, which he pushed high
upon his brow as his customer entered.

"Since my father has engaged to buy Sophia a ring," said Tristram to
himself, "I will get her a tulip. We will sit hand in hand and watch
it unfold."

The prospect so engaged his fancy that he entered and began a
sentence in excellent English. The shopman replied by shaking his
head and uttering a few unintelligible words.

This was dashing. Tristram cast about for a few seconds, and began
again in dog-Latin, a tongue which he had acquired in order to read
the herbals to Captain Barker on winter evenings. To his delight the
little man answered him promptly. Within a minute they were charmed
with each other; within two, they had the highest opinion of each
other; within ten, the counter was heaped with trays of the rarest
bulbs, insomuch that Tristram found a grave difficulty in choosing
that which should give the greatest pleasure to his Sophia. But,
alas, in changing clothes with his son, Captain Salt had found it
unnecessary to change breeches! Tristram put a hand into his pocket
and discovered that it contained one coin only--the shilling with
which he had been presented when forcibly enlisted in his Majesty's
Coldstream Guards.

The Latin of the enthusiastic shopman was becoming almost Ciceronian,
when Tristram pulled out the coin, and holding it under his nose
briefly stated the case. Then the wizened face fell a full inch, and
the eloquent voice broke off to explain that an English shilling,
though doubtless a valid tender in England, was not worth more than a
stiver, if that, to a Dutch tradesman.

Tristram apologised, adding that, if the shopman had a pennyworth of
any kind of seed, he would purchase it as a small reparation for his
intrusion on the time of so learned a man.

The shopman took the shilling and tossed upon the counter a packet of
pepper-cress seed.

Our hero pocketed it, and was leaving the shop; but paused on the
threshold and began to renew his apologies.

The little man had picked up his book again, and turned a deaf ear.

Tristram stepped out into the street. As he did so a hand was laid
on his arm, and a voice said in good English:

"I arrest you in the name of King William!"



CHAPTER X.


THE TRIBULATIONS OF TRISTRAM.

"I think there must be some mistake," said Tristram, as he turned in
surprise and saw a tall man of soldierly presence, with three
stalwart comrades immediately behind him.

"No mistake at all," said the tall man, with conviction. "My orders
are to arrest and convey you back to The Hague."

"But I am about to leave Holland, and this will cause me considerable
delay."

"Undoubtedly."

"In that case," Tristram replied, springing back a pace and whipping
out his sword, "I must decline to follow you."

"Bah! This is folly."

"On the contrary, it is the conclusion of a valid syllogism which I
will explain to you if you have time."

"Seize him!" was the only answer. The four men drew their swords and
rushed forward together. Perceiving that he must be skewered against
the shop door if he awaited their onset, Tristram contented himself
with disarming his foremost assailant; then, springing wildly back on
his left heel, he spun round and began to run down the street for
dear life.

His movement had been so sudden that he gained a dozen yards before
his enemies recovered from their surprise and set off in pursuit.
Sword in hand, Tristram flew along the causeway, under the high
garden-walls, for the open country and the windmills ahead. He heard
the feet pounding after him, but luckily did not look behind.
Therefore he was ignorant that his leading pursuer carried a brace of
pistols in his belt and was pulling one out as he ran.

It was so, however; and in half a minute the pistol cracked out
behind him--as it seemed, at the very back of his ear.

He sped on nevertheless, not knowing if he were wounded or not, but
very wisely deciding that this was the surest way to find out.

As it happened, this pistol-shot proved of the greatest service to
him. For an inquisitive burgher, hearing the outcries along the
road, had popped his head out of his garden door at the very moment
that Tristram whizzed by, followed by the detonation. The burgher,
too, was uncertain about the bullet, but determined on the instant to
take the gloomier view. He therefore fell across the pavement on his
stomach and bellowed.

The distraction was so sudden that two of the pursuers tripped over
his prostrate form and fell headlong. Their swords clanged on the
cobbles. With the clang there mingled the sound of a muffled
explosion.

"Curse the idiot! You've killed him, Dick."

The pair picked themselves up as their comrades leapt past them.
Dick snatched up his second pistol, and resumed the pursuit without
troubling his head about the burgher.

The burgher picked himself up and extracted the ball--from the folds
of his voluminous breeches. Then he went indoors for ointment and
plaster, the flame of the powder having scorched him severely.
Later he had the bent guelder (which had diverted the bullet)
fastened to a little gold chain, and his wife wore it always on the
front of her bodice. Finally it became an heirloom in a thriving
Dutch family.

But he was a very slow man, and all this took a considerable time.
Meanwhile we have left Tristram running, about thirty yards ahead of
his foremost enemy.

He gained the end of the quiet suburb, still maintaining his
distance, and scanned the landscape in front. Evening was descending
fast. To his right he saw the waters of a broad canal glimmering
under the grey sky. Straight before him the high-road ran, without
so much as a tree to shelter him, for miles. On the horizon a score
of windmills waved their arms like beckoning ghosts. He was a good
swimmer. It flashed upon him that his one hope was to make for the
canal and strike for the farther bank. There was a reasonable chance
of shaking off one or more of his pursuers by this device.

He leapt the narrow ditch that ran parallel with the road, and began
to bear across the green meadows in a line which verged towards the
canal-bank, at an angle sufficiently acute to prevent his foes from
intercepting him by a short cut. By their shouts he judged that his
guess was fairly correct, and the prospect of having to swim the
canal daunted them somewhat. He looked over his shoulder. The pace
had told upon three of them, but one man had actually gained on him,
and could not be more than twenty strides behind.

"I shall have to settle with this fellow," he thought. "He is going
to catch me up before I reach the bank."

His first wind was failing him, and his heart began to thump against
his ribs. He spied a beaten path at this point that trended across
the meadow at a blunter angle than the one he was following.
Almost unconsciously he began to reason as follows:

"A beaten path is usually the shortest cut: also, to follow it is
usually to escape the risk of meeting unforeseen obstacles. But if I
change the angle at which I am running for one more obtuse, I give my
pursuer the advantage of ten yards or so. Yes; but I shorten the
distance to be covered, and, moreover, this is a long-distance man,
and he is wearing me down."

Though this process of reasoning appeared to him deliberate enough,
in point of fact he had worked it out and put the conclusion into
practice in a couple of bounds. As he darted aside and along the
footpath he could hear the momentary break in his antagonist's
stride.

Tristram had hardly turned into this footpath, however, before he saw
the occasion of it. Just before him lay a plank, and beneath the
plank a sunken dyke, dividing the meadow so unexpectedly that at
fifty yards' distance the green lips seemed to meet in one continuous
stretch of turf. And yet the dyke was full forty feet wide.
He leapt on to the swaying bridge and across to the farther edge,
almost without a glance at the sluggish black water under his feet.

It is probable that his sudden weight jolted the plank out of its
position. For hardly was he safe on the turf again when he heard a
sharp cry. Throwing a look behind, he saw his pursuer totter, clutch
at the slipping timber, and, still clutching at it, turn a somersault
and disappear.

Tristram ran on. Then a series of shouts rang in his ear, and he
looked behind again. The other three men had come up, and were
running aimlessly to and fro upon the farther bank. From the pit at
their feet rose a gurgling and heartrending appeal for help. It was
plain the poor fellow was drowning, and equally plain that his
comrades could not swim. Tristram took a couple of strides, and
halted. Then he faced about and walked back towards the dyke, his
heart still knocking against his ribs.

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