Highway Pirates; or, The Secret Place at Coverthorne

CHAPTER VII.
TRIED AND SENTENCED

Every thoughtful person will have remarked how the important events in life are often led up to by some incident or mischance of the most trivial kind; and so this story of mine would, in all probability, never have been written if it had not been for the accidental dropping of my cap in the course of that senseless night adventure.

"Had you got it on when you crossed the brook?" asked Miles, when I explained what had happened. "D'you think you dropped it climbing up to the window?"

In answer to these inquiries I could only shake my head. From the time the farmer surprised us in the field I could only recall a vague impression of our wild scamper through the darkness.

"Oh, it's all right," said Rigby. "I expect it fell off when we were hauling you from the roof of the shed. If so, you can easily get it in the morning."

With that the talk ended, and we scrambled into bed. We had certainly silenced our enemies, and covered ourselves with a questionable kind of glory, by our escapade, for even Liddle admitted that our pluck could no longer be doubted. Yet, as I continued to lie broad awake, staring into the darkness long after my companions had fallen asleep, I was far from easy in mind or satisfied with the result of the adventure.

If I had dropped my cap in the fields and old Smiley found it, he was sure to take it at once to Dr. Bagley and state what had happened. Unfortunately, not more than a month before there had been a passage-at-arms between this same man and us boys, about a broken gate which he declared to have been our doing, though in that instance I think he was mistaken. Still, a formal complaint was made to the headmaster, who addressed us on the subject in the big schoolroom, warning us that in the event of any fresh instances of trespass and damage done by us to neighbouring property being brought under his notice, the culprit would be punished with the utmost severity. All this did not tend to ease my mind as I lay picturing up the possibility of a terrible interview in the doctor's study. There was only one thing I could decide to do, and that was to make search as early as possible on the following day, and try to recover this damaging piece of evidence before it fell into the hands of the enemy. Jumping out of bed next morning at the first sound of the bell, and dressing as hastily as possible, I rushed down into the yard, where, in spite of the cold and darkness, I carefully examined the roof of the outhouses, and the spot by the water-butt where we had climbed up and down. Hunt as I would, however, I was doomed to disappointment – the missing cap was nowhere to be seen; and at length the unwelcome truth was forced upon my mind that it must have fallen off during our flight across the fields, most likely have been dragged from my head as I plunged madly through a hedge.

Standing there shivering in the raw winter morning, I quickly came to the conclusion that I had now no choice but to pursue one course of action. The free time after breakfast was too short to allow of my doing anything till after morning school ended at twelve o'clock; then, even if it meant accepting the risk of being seen, I must run over the ground we had covered the night before, and attempt to find the cap. It was quite possible that neither the farmer nor his men might cross these particular fields before midday, and so, with good luck, this unfortunate proof of my guilt might be kept from falling into their hands.

How vividly the events of that unfortunate morning are impressed upon my mind! We had no separate classroom in those days; the one big school held all the forms in work hours, each division being marshalled round the desk of its particular master. The class which contained Miles Coverthorne, myself, and about a dozen other boys, was taken by a master named Jennings. We were seated at our desks preparing some work before standing round to be questioned. Exactly what the subject was I don't remember – probably the Latin grammar, to the study of which the greater portion of our time seems to have been devoted. Directly in front of me sat a youth who, from the possession of a peculiarly squeaky voice, was known as the "Jackdaw," a nickname which suited him in more ways than one, for he was as mischievous as the famous bird whom the legend declares to have stolen the cardinal's ring.

My eyes happening to wander from my book, I became aware of the fact that the "Jackdaw" was endeavouring to attract my attention. In the hand which he held out towards me was a queer-shaped object, which he evidently wished me to examine. I took it, and found that it was a toy which he had already informed me he intended to make. The article in question was one which it is probable my present-day readers will never have seen, and I find some difficulty in describing it without being able to demonstrate its working by showing the thing itself. In my young days, when children were more often obliged to make their own playthings, they were common enough. We called them "jumpers," and constructed them out of the breastbone of a goose, a bit of wood, and some twisted string. At the point of the bone was a small piece of cobbler's wax. This was warmed; then the bit of wood was wound round and round in the twisted string, which ran through two holes bored in the extremities of the fork; the end of the chip was then stuck to the wax, and the "jumper" placed ready for its leap. As the wax cooled, its hold gradually relaxed, till suddenly the bit of wood was let go, and, with the action of a compressed spring, sent the whole contrivance flying into the air.

Unable to resist the temptation of seeing how the "Jackdaw's" newly-made treasure would act, I wound up the string, warmed the wax by breathing on it, and foolishly set the toy down on the form by my side. I don't know whether the "jumper" was a specially strong one, but after a few moments' pause it suddenly sprang high in the air, and, describing a circle, fell with a clatter right on the master's desk.

Mr. Jennings looked up with a start from the book he was reading.

"Who did that?" he demanded sharply.

There was a general titter.

"Please, sir, I did," I faltered.

"Then stand out," ordered the master. "If I have to speak to you again for inattention, you will stay in and do your work after school."

As the words were uttered a sudden thought flashed through my mind that if I were kept in after school I should not be able to carry out my intention of slipping off and going in search of my cap. I glanced uneasily towards the end of the room where Dr. Bagley was seated at his desk, giving instruction to the head form. If he happened to catch sight of me thus banished from the class, it might mean further trouble. Fortunately, for the present the great man's attention was fully occupied. I waited anxiously for about ten minutes, and then ventured to ask Mr. Jennings if I might sit down.

"Certainly not," was the reply. "Remain where you are till the end of the lesson."

Hoping that the worst would not happen, I resumed my former position. There was a movement at the end of the room; the doctor had dismissed his boys to their seats to write an exercise. Slowly he rose from his chair, adjusted his spectacles, and, descending from his platform, came down the room. I saw that my fate was sealed, and stood like a condemned criminal on the drop, awaiting the withdrawal of the fatal bolt.

"Well, sir, and what brings you here?"

Not knowing what reply to make, I remained speechless, and Mr. Jennings answered the question.

"He has been wasting his time and disturbing the rest of the class playing with this silly toy, sir."

In those days the cane was the most usual form of punishment for all kinds of offences. Though sharp at the moment, it had the advantage of being soon over; and remembering my project, I almost hoped that the headmaster would order me to follow him to his desk, the usual place of execution. If this, however, was my wish, it was destined to be thwarted.

"Oh, indeed!" returned the doctor, in his most magisterial tones. "Then let me tell you, sir, that a boy who plays in work hours must make up his mind to work in play hours. – Mr. Jennings, kindly set him a task, and see that he remains at his desk during the free hour before dinner."

In my vexation I could have fallen on the "Jackdaw" and given him a good pommelling for having induced me to meddle with such an exceptionally lively "jumper" in school time. The mischief, however, was done now; and when the other boys were dismissed, and rushed out into the playground, I was forced to remain at my place with a Latin book open in front of me, a certain number of lines of which I was ordered to commit to memory.

I was still far from easy in mind, and could only hope that my cap was reposing in some ditch or thicket, where it was not likely to be noticed by any chance passers-by. Attempting to reassure myself with the thought of this possibility, I settled down to my task, and commenced repeating the Latin lines over and over again, in a monotonous undertone, until they should become fixed in my memory.

The hands of the clock must have reached half-past twelve, when the door of the schoolroom suddenly opened, and Sparrow the porter made his appearance.

"Mr. Eden, the doctor wants you – now, at once – in his study;" and with this abrupt announcement the man promptly turned on his heel and disappeared.

To us boys there was always a dreadful significance in that apparently harmless message, and my heart sank within me as I rose to my feet and prepared to obey. I walked down a short, dark passage, across a bare, draughty hall, and knocking on a forbidding-looking door, received a peremptory command to "come in."

Once across the threshold any doubt as to the reason of the summons was set at rest by the sight of Farmer Smiley sitting very bolt upright on a chair by the bookcase, with his hat on the floor by his side.

"D'you see this cap, sir?" began the headmaster, holding up the article in question. "It has your name on the lining, therefore I presume it is yours."

From the burning sensation in my cheeks I felt that my face must have given a plainer answer to the question than my mumbled reply.

"Then will you explain how it came to be lying this morning in the middle of one of Mr. Smiley's fields?"

However unwilling I might be to tell the story, the admissions were dragged from me – first, that I had visited the farmer's field with the object of enjoying a stolen ride on his horse; and, secondly, that I had actually done so late the previous night, when I was supposed to be asleep in bed.

"You actually mean to tell me that you climbed out of your dormitory window and went roaming over the country when it must have been close on midnight? I never heard of such outrageous conduct – never!"

"He warn't the only one," put in the old farmer; "there was two on 'em."

"Was any other boy with you?" demanded Dr. Bagley.

I shut my mouth tightly with the determination that nothing should induce me to betray my friend. Whether the doctor would have insisted on a reply to his question I cannot say, but fortunately a diversion was caused by the farmer, who probably felt satisfied in bringing home the charge against at least one of the culprits.

"Well, whether I seed one or two I ain't perticular about – leastways there's no doubt about this un. And," continued the speaker, going off at a tangent, "it seems to me a pity that a man can't live on a farm without his gates being broken and his beasts chased by a band of mischievous young rascals like this 'ere."

"Mr. Smiley," began the headmaster, "I can only say how much I regret that anything of this sort should have happened. I can assure you that I shall make an example of this boy, and take steps to prevent your meeting with any such annoyances in the future. – Now, sir," he continued, turning to me, "go straight to your bedroom, and stay there till I send for you to come down."

There is no necessity for me to enter into a full description of the painful incidents which followed this command. Dr. Bagley was not in a mood to be lenient. The various raids of "Foxes" and "Eagles" over the countryside had occasioned more than one complaint being lodged against us; and now that he had a clearly-proved case to deal with, the headmaster was determined to make such an example of the culprit as should discourage indulgence in such lawless practices in the future.

That afternoon I received a public caning before the whole school, and was informed that, as an additional punishment, I should be kept back to go home one day later than the rest.

Though the flogging was a severe one, I think I would have endured it a second time if the doctor would have substituted this for the remaining part of my sentence. At the end of a long half every extra day seemed an unbearably long period of time, and the thought of seeing all my comrades start for home while I lingered behind, and missed all the fun of travelling with them – such a prospect, I say, appeared almost unendurable. As has been already stated, owing to the limited accommodation on the coaches, our breaking-up really extended over two days: half the boys were starting on the Wednesday, and the other half on the Thursday; so I should have to remain till the Friday morning. Sitting on the end of my bed in the cold dormitory, where I had been ordered to spend the rest of the day in solitary confinement, I felt the soreness of this disappointment more than the smart of the weals inflicted by the headmaster's cane. There was, however, one consolation through it all – namely, the fact that I had not betrayed my comrade in the night's adventure. However crude our code of honour may have been, we were loyal to it; and I had the satisfaction of feeling that my school-fellows would remember this as a proof that I was no sneak. Furthermore, this was to be the end of Miles's school life, and it would have been a pity for him to finish up by being sent home in disgrace for what was, after all, merely a piece of thoughtless folly, and largely the fault of Liddle.

The short winter day was drawing to a close, and I was sitting in the deepening twilight, when the door suddenly opened, and in came Miles. He had been watching his opportunity to creep upstairs, and was carrying his boots in his hand, it being against the rules for boys to visit the dormitories between the times of getting up and going to bed.

"I say," he began, "I hope I haven't acted like a sneak. I've been thinking that perhaps I ought to have come forward and owned up to having been with you last night, but I'll tell you why I didn't. I thought perhaps the doctor had asked if any one else had gone, and you might have said 'No;' and in that case you'd only have got it worse for not telling the truth. I tried to get to see you before dinner, but I nearly got caught; and though I've been on the lookout ever since, this is really the first opportunity. I say, didn't old Smiley notice there were two of us? or how did it happen that I escaped?"

I told him exactly what had transpired in the course of my examination by the headmaster.

"You're an awful old brick, Sylvester!" he exclaimed. "It was jolly good of you to try to keep me out of the scrape when it was really my doing. All the same, now I know exactly what you said, I shall go to Bagley and tell him of my share in the business. I can't save you the thrashing, but he might let you off from staying behind that extra day."

"Don't be a fool!" I cried, catching him by the arm. "It can't make any difference now. He won't let me off, and you'll only get in a row yourself. Look here, Miles: you've had trouble enough lately, and I'm only too glad to have kept you out of this row. If you think you're indebted to me for a good turn, then do as I ask, and don't go spoiling it all by getting flogged for nothing."

He laughed, and sat down on the bed by my side.

"You're a regular old brick," he repeated; "and if you really mean it, why, I'll let sleeping dogs lie. But I wish there was more likelihood of my being able to do something for you in return. Who knows if we shall ever meet again? If we are forced to give up Coverthorne, I think I shall go to sea. I must have an open-air life, and I couldn't stand being penned up in an office."

We sat silent for a few moments in the gathering darkness, and I must own to an uncomfortable lump rising in my throat as I strove to find words in which to reply. We had come as new boys to the school on the same day, and had been close friends ever since, sharing our joys and sorrows, and never expecting that a day would come when our companionship would have a sudden and unlooked-for ending. I should have little to look forward to in returning to school after the Christmas holidays.

"Hullo! there goes the tea-bell," exclaimed. Miles. "Cheer up," he added, apparently reading my thoughts; "we shall meet again – who knows?"

"Who knows?" I echoed, as cheerfully as I could, and forcing a laugh.

My friend turned and stole softly from the room. If some one could have told us that we should see each other again before the year was out, we might have spent the night in guessing, and yet have remained without the remotest idea as to how, when, and where that extraordinary meeting was to take place.

CHAPTER VIII.
MY JOURNEY BEGINS

It was certainly a bitter pill for me to swallow watching the boys start for home on the Wednesday and Thursday mornings, and what made the punishment seem all the harder was saying good-bye to Miles. Had it not been for that hare-brained antic, I might at least have travelled with him on the coach as far as Tod's Corner, and so enjoyed his companionship a few hours longer. A school, after the boys have gone home for the holidays, is a very desolate place. I had my meals at the headmaster's table, but, being in disgrace, ate them in solemn silence, and was glad enough when the ordeal was over, and I was free once more to go where I liked.

At length, on the Thursday afternoon, I found myself sitting at one of the long rows of desks in the empty schoolroom. The unusual quiet seemed to weigh on my spirits; and though I tried to cheer myself with the thought that only a few hours now remained before I should be on the way home, yet a certain gloomy foreboding as of impending trouble seemed to weigh on my mind. What could it be? After all, the loss of one day did not much matter, and I felt sure that when I explained the full circumstances of the case to my parents, they would take a lenient view of my foolish midnight escapade. Sitting idly mending an old quill pen which I had found on the floor, my thoughts turned once more to Miles and his uncertain future, and from this I came to recalling the incidents of my visit to Coverthorne.

What could be the explanation of that strange noise in the so-called haunted room? Of course, there were no such things as ghosts, and yet – and yet I myself had beaten a hasty retreat when left alone with those unearthly sounds, the origin of which it was impossible to trace. The very recollection of the experience made me turn and glance uneasily up and down the long room, as though I half expected to find myself sharing its solitude with some black bogey of a nursemaid's tale. The next instant I laughed at my own foolishness, and rising to my feet began to move about, for the room was cold.

The place had not been swept since the boys' departure. The floor was littered with torn paper, fragments of broken slates, and other rubbish which had been thrown about in the process of packing up. Some light-hearted youth, who had come into possession of a piece of chalk, had covered the blackboard with his scrawlings. Wandering aimlessly up the room, I came to a halt; then, hardly conscious of what I was doing, I opened one of the desks, and glanced down carelessly at its interior.

What good reason I afterwards had to remember that apparently purposeless' action! The books and other boyish possessions had been removed, and nothing remained but a mass of waste paper and other odds and ends, such as lay strewn about on the floor. I stirred this up with my hand. As I did so, my fingers came in contact with something hard, and I drew forth a small, oblong metal box, made, if I remember rightly, of pewter.

The desk had been occupied by a boy named Talbot, who was leaving these holidays, and so had taken his books with him. The object which I held in my hand, and which he had evidently overlooked, was a tinder-box, or rather a box containing tinder, flint, and steel, and little chips of wood tipped with sulphur. The so-called "lucifer" matches, I may remark, did not come into use until some years later. I stood for a moment undecided what to do with my find. Left in the desk it was certain to be discovered and carried off, either by one of the servants or the charwoman who cleaned the room. Talbot had a younger brother who would be returning after Christmas. I might restore the box to him; and with this intention I slipped it into my pocket.

I was up early enough on the following morning, devoured my breakfast in the kitchen by the light of a solitary candle, and then said a hasty good-bye to Dr. Bagley, who had just come down, and who, after sternly expressing a hope that I should amend my ways next term, thawed sufficiently to wish me a merry Christmas and send his compliments to my friends at home. Sparrow was to drive me in the pony-chaise as far as Round Green. We started off, with the single trunk which composed my luggage on the seat in front; and so began the most eventful journey of my life – one which it seems little short of a miracle did not end in my embarking on that still longer journey from which there is no return.

The coach was due to arrive at Round Green at about 9.30, and we were to wait for it, as usual, at the Sportsman Inn, which, being the end of a stage, was always stopped at for the purpose of changing horses.

It was a bitterly cold morning; the roads seemed as hard as iron, and our breath smoked as we talked. We had covered nearly half the distance, and were going along in fine fashion, when suddenly there was a clatter and a crash. I felt myself flung forward, heard a shout from Sparrow, and the next moment found myself rolling down a steep bank by the roadside, half blinded by the cold rime from the frosty grass. It took me a few seconds to recover myself, and when at length I scrambled to my feet, I saw at once what had happened. The pony had slipped on a sheet of ice, and come down badly, cutting its knees and smashing one of the shafts. Fortunately Sparrow had sustained no injury, and with the help of a countryman who happened to be crossing a neighbouring field we unharnessed our steed, and got it once more on its legs.

For a time the accident occupied the whole of our attention. Sparrow was in a fine state of mind, fearing that he would be blamed for the mishap. It was evident that we could not go on, and if we returned we should have to walk. Then it flashed across my mind that this delay would cause me to lose the coach. There was no catching a later train in those days, and I could not bring myself to face the prospect of spending another day in that deserted school.

"I shall go on," I declared to Sparrow, "and you can return with the pony."

"I doubt if you'll reach the Sportsman in time, Mr. Eden," was the answer. "And there's your box. We must back the chaise into the roadside till it can be sent for, but we ought not to leave your box."

"Oh, bother my luggage!" I began, when the countryman interrupted and came to the rescue.

"I doan't mind carrying the young gen'leman's box as fur as the Sportsman for a mug o' beer," he remarked; "then you can get back home with the pony."

The arrangement was no sooner suggested than I agreed to it, and Sparrow was obliged to acquiesce. The damaged carriage was pushed back into a gateway, my trunk was lifted out, and hoisted on to the broad shoulders of the labourer; and taking leave of the school porter, I turned to resume my journey to Round Green.

In the heat of the moment I had not paid much attention to the doubt expressed by Sparrow as to my reaching the inn in time to catch the coach, but now I began to wonder myself whether the thing could be done. Nowadays every boy has a watch; then they were a rarer possession. I had no means of telling the time, but guessed we had none to spare.

On I went, the man with the box trudging behind me. It soon became evident that, burdened as he was, he could not keep up with me unless I moderated my pace; and at length, when we reached the top of a rather stiff hill, he was obliged to stop and put down the trunk, in order to rest and regain his breath.

The sunshine sparkled on the frosted trees and hedges. It was one of those clear, still winter mornings when sounds carry a long distance, and as we waited there came to our ears the far-off "toot-toot" of a horn. It was the coach signalling its approach to Round Green. I sprang to my feet, and abandoning my box to its fate, rushed off along the road, with some wild notion of stopping the coach and leaving word for my luggage to be sent on. But I might as well have attempted to overtake the vehicle which had carried off my companions on the previous day. The inn was still more than a mile distant, and when at length, flushed and panting, I arrived in front of the building, the only trace to be seen of the Regulator was a glimpse of the steaming horses, which had worked the last stage, being led away by an hostler in the direction of the stables. Accustomed though I was to take hard knocks at school, I must say that I could have sat down and cried with vexation. Pulling myself together, I walked into the house, and there encountering Peter Judson, the landlord, and his wife, a stout, good-natured body, who always took a kindly interest in us boys, in a few words I related exactly what had happened.

"What stuff and nonsense not allowing him to go home with the rest!" exclaimed Mrs. Judson. "It just serves that old Dr. Bagley right, his chaise being broken! – Well, my dear," she continued, "I don't see there's anything to be done but for you to go back, and make a fresh start again to-morrow. The butcher will pass in about an hour's time; he is going Ashbridge way, and would take you along with him in his cart."

"Oh, I'm not going back," I answered doggedly. "Look here," I added, struck with a sudden idea: "I'll wait here, and go on by the night coach. I don't mind the cold, and I should get home to Castlefield in time for breakfast to-morrow morning."

"It's not certain you'd find room," muttered Peter, "unless you booked a place beforehand. There's a good many travelling now, just before Christmas."

"Oh, they'd stow him away somewhere, a little chap like him," remarked Mrs. Judson.

Just then a man's head appeared at the door of the bar-parlour in which we were talking, and I recognized Bob, the head stableman, who had been passing down the passage and had overheard our conversation.

"There's the True Blue put on extra to-day for the jail delivery," he remarked. "The young gen'leman might get through to Castlefield all right on that. I don't suppose he'd have any particular objection to going along of the 'birds,' seeing they're well looked after!"

The exact meaning of this speech I did not comprehend, but I gathered from it that there was a chance of my going on by an extra coach, which would pass before the mail, and I at once jumped at the opportunity.

"Oh yes; I'll go on by that," I exclaimed. "What time is it due?"

"About half-past four," answered the man.

Judson and his wife looked at each other and then at me.

"I don't see why he shouldn't go," remarked the latter. "George'll look after him all right. Besides, his friends will be expecting him to-day, and'll be sure to be sitting up. He ought to be home just afore or after midnight."

It was, accordingly, settled that I was to go on by the True Blue, which was due to pass at half-past four. The man appeared shortly after with my box. I gave him his mug of beer, and then settled down to while away the time as best I could till the coach should arrive. I looked over some back numbers of the Welmington Advertiser, went outside and chatted with the stablemen, and joined the landlord and his wife at their midday dinner. Slowly the afternoon wore away. Mrs. Judson had forced me to eat a hearty tea – "to keep out the cold," as the good soul put it – and I was standing warming myself by the taproom fire talking to Judson, when, happening to turn my head, I saw a man's face pressed close against the outside of the window. By this time it was quite dark. I could see nothing more of the stranger than his face, but from the way in which he moved his head it seemed to me that he was endeavouring to get a glimpse of the old eight-day clock which stood in a corner of the room behind the bar. Perceiving that I was looking at something, the landlord turned also, but had hardly done so when the face disappeared.

We waited for a moment, expecting that the stranger would enter the inn; then, as he did not appear, Judson strolled outside to see what the man wanted. I waited some time, and at length the landlord returned.

"You saw that fellow outside, didn't you, sir?" he asked. "Well, it's curious I can't see no trace of him anywhere. He looked rather a rough customer. I wonder what he wanted."

We had little time for speculation, for hardly had my companion finished speaking when the cheerful note of the horn gave warning that the coach was approaching; and the quiet little inn woke up at once with an unwonted show of life and bustle.

Great was my delight, as the guard of the coach entered the room, to recognize our old friend George Woodley, who, I afterwards discovered, had been changed from the Regulator to the True Blue; and in a few words I explained to him the situation in which I was placed.