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Dick o' the Fens: A Tale of the Great East Swamp, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 4. A Journey By Punt |
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_ CHAPTER FOUR. A JOURNEY BY PUNT There was still a furious current running on the far side of the Toft, as, well provided with lanterns, the two punts pushed off. On the side where the two last comers landed it had seemed sluggish, for an eddy had helped them in; but as soon as they were all well out beyond the pines the stream caught them, the wind helped it, and their task was not to get towards Grimsey, but to retard their vessels, and mind that they were not capsized by running upon a pollard willow, whose thin bare boughs rose up out of the water now and then, like the horrent hair of some marine monster which had come in with the flood from the sea. "We've done wrong, Hickathrift," said the squire after they had been borne along by the current for some distance; "and I don't understand all this. I thought that when the tide had turned, the water would have flowed back again through the gap it must have broken, instead of still sweeping on." "Ay," said the great wheelwright, who was standing in the bows with his long leaping-pole in his hand; "I do puzzle, squire. I've been looking out for a light to show where Grimsey lies, for here, in the dark, it's watter, watter, watter, and I can't see the big poplar by Tallington's. Hi! Dave, where's Grimsey, thinks ta?" he shouted. "Nay, I don't know." "Can you make it out, John Warren?" "Nay, lad, I'm 'bout bet." "Then, squire, if they can't say, I can't. What shall we do?" "We must wait for daylight," said the squire, after peering into the darkness ahead for some time. "We shall be swept far past it if we go on. Can you hold the punt with your pole?" "Nay, no more'n you could a bull with a bit o' tar band, mester. We mun keep a sharp look-out for the next tree, and lay hold of the branches and stop there. D'ye hear, lads?" "Aye, what is it?" came from the other boat. "Look out for the next tree, and hing on till daylight." Dave uttered a grunt, and they floated on and on for nearly a quarter of an hour before Dick uttered a loud "Look out!" "I see her, my lad," cried Hickathrift; and he tried to give the boat a good thrust by means of his pole; but though he touched bottom it was soft peat, and his pole went down, and the next moment they were crashing through the top of a willow, with the boat tilting up on one side and threatening to fill; but just as the water began to pour in, there was a whishing and crackling noise as it passed over the obstacle and swung clear, with Hickathrift holding on to a branch with all his might. "Look out! Can you tek howd, lad?" came from the other boat, which came gliding out of the darkness, just clear of the tree. As it came on, Dick caught the pole Dave held out to him and checked the progress of the little punt; but he had miscalculated his strength as opposed to the force of the current, and after a jerk, which seemed to be tearing his arms out of their sockets, he was being dragged out of the boat, and half over, when his father seized him round the hips. "Can you hold on, Dick?" cried the squire. "A--a little while," panted the lad. "Get howd o' the pole, mester," shouted Warren from the other boat. "I can't, man, without loosing the boy. We shall have to let you go." "Let go, then," growled Dave; "we can find our way somehow." "Nay," shouted Hickathrift. "Howd hard a minute till I've made fast here. I'm coming." As he spoke he was busy holding on to the elastic willow branch with one hand, while with the other he drew the rope out of the boat's head, and, with a good deal of labour, managed to pass it round the bough and make it fast. "There, she's all right," he cried, stepping aft carefully, the boat swaying beneath his huge weight. "Now, squire, I mun lean ower thee to get howd o' the pole. Eh! but it's a long way to reach, and--" "Mind, man, mind!" cried the squire, "or we shall fill with water; we're within an inch now." "Nay, we sha'n't go down," cried Hickathrift, straining right over the squire and Dick, and sinking the stern of the boat so far that his face kept touching the water, and he had to wrench his head round to speak. "There, I've got howd o' the pole, and one leg hooked under the thwart. Let go, Mester Dick; and you haul him aboard, squire, and get to the other end." It needed cautious movement, for the boat was now so low that the water rushed over; but by exerting his strength the squire dragged Dick away, and together they relieved the stern of the pressure and crept forward. "Now Dave, lad, haul alongside, and make your rope fast to the ring-bolt," cried Hickathrift; and this was done, the punt swung behind, and the great Saxon-like fellow sat up laughing. "Is it all safe?" cried the squire. "Ay, mester, so long as that bough don't part; but I've got my owd ear full o' watter, and it's a-roonning down my neck. But say, mester, it's a rum un." "What is, my lad?" "Why, it wur ony yesday I wur saying to my Jacob as we'd get the poont mended, and come out here with the handbills and brattle [lop] all the willows anywhere nigh, so as to hev a lot to throost down about our plaace to grow. Now, if we'd done that there'd ha' been no branch to lay hold on here, and we might ha' gone on to Spalding afore we'd stopped. Eh, but howding on theer made me keb." [Keb: pant for breath.] "Are you hurt, Dick?" said the squire. "N-no, I don't think I'm hurt, father," replied Dick, hesitatingly; "only I feel--" "Well, speak, my lad; don't keep anything back." "Oh, no, I won't keep anything back, father!" said Dick, laughing; "but I felt as if I'd been one of those poor fellows in the Tower that they used to put on the rack--all stretchy like." "Mak' you grow, Mester Dick," said Hickathrift, "mak' you grow into a great long chap like me--six foot four." "I hope not," said the squire, laughing. "Draw the line this side of the six feet, Dick. There: the stiffness will soon pass off." They sat talking for a time, but words soon grew few and far between. The two fen-men swinging in their boat behind had recourse to the brass box again, each partaking of a rolled-up quid of opium, and afterwards crouched there in a half drowsy state, careless of their peril, while the squire and his companions passed their time listening to the rush of the water and the creaking of the willow bough as it rubbed against the side of the boat, and wondered, as from time to time the wheelwright examined the rope and made it more secure, whether the branch would give way at its intersection with the trunk. The darkness seemed as if it would never pass, whilst the cold now became painful; and as he heard Dick's teeth begin to chatter, the wheelwright exclaimed: "Look here, young mester, I ain't hot, but there's a lot o' warmth comes out o' me. You come and sit close up, and you come t'other side, squire. It'll waarm him." This was done, and with good effect, for the lad's teeth ceased their castanet-like action as he sat waiting for the daylight. No word was spoken by the men in the little punt, and those uttered in the other grew fewer, as its occupants sat listening to the various sounds that came from a distance. For the flood had sent the non-swimming birds wheeling round in the darkness, and every now and then the whistling of wings was quite startling. The ducks of all kinds were in a high state of excitement, and passed over in nights or settled down in the water with a tremendous outcry, while ever and again a peculiar clanging from high overhead gave warning that the wild-geese were on the move, either fleeing or attracted by some strange instinct to the watery waste. But morning seemed as if it would never come, and it was not until hours upon hours had passed that there was a cessation of the high wind, and a faint line of light just over the water, seaward, proclaimed that the dawn could not be far away. "Can you see where we are?" said the squire, as it began to grow lighter. "Ay, it's plain enough now, mester," was the reply; "and yonder's Grimsey." "I can see Tom," said Dick just then; "and there's Farmer Tallington, and all the rest, right on the top of the roof." In a few minutes more all was plain enough, and the reason apparent why the people at Tallington had not shown a light in the course of the night or done anything else to indicate their position, for it was evident that they had been driven from below stairs to the floor above, and from thence to the roof, where they must have sat out the evening hours, perhaps doubtful of how long the place would last before it was swept away. So intent had the squire and Dick been in watching for the dawn, that the gradual cessation of the flowing water had passed unnoticed; but it was plain now that the surface of the wide expanse out of which the Toft rose, with the old Priory buildings a couple of miles away, was now unruffled by the wind, and that the current had ceased to flow. But for this the party of rescue in the two punts would not have been able to reach the inundated farm, for it was only here and there that a firm place could be found for the poles, which generally sank deeply in the peat covered by the water to an average depth of about eight feet. In the course of half an hour the boats were close up to the reed thatch of the great farm-house, a rope made fast to the chimney-stack, and Mrs Tallington, the farmer, Tom, a couple of maids and three men were transferred to the boats, all stiff and helpless with the cold. "I don't mind now," said Tom, shivering as he spoke. "A boat isn't much of a thing, but it will float, and all last night it seemed as if the old house was going to be swept away." "Are these your horses?" said Dick, pointing to a group of dejected-looking animals standing knee-deep in company with some cattle, about a quarter of a mile away. "Yes, and our cows," replied Tom, shivering. "Oh, I say, don't talk; I'm so cold and hungry!" All this time Hickathrift was diligently using the pole in the larger boat, and Dave leading the way in the other, both being well laden now, and progressing fairly fast toward the Toft, which stood up like an island of refuge in the midst of the vast lake, dotted here and there with the tops of trees. At times the poles touched a good firm tuft of heath or a patch of gravel, and the boat received a good thrust forward; at other times, when the bottom was soft, Hickathrift struck the water with it right and left as he stood up in the prow, using it as a kind of paddle. Before they were half-way on their journey the sun came out from a cloud, just at the edge of the inundation; and with it and the prospect of warmth and food at the Priory, everybody's spirits began to rise. "Might have been worse, neighbour," shouted the squire. "You sold all your sheep last week." "Ay," said the farmer from Dave's punt; "and we might all have been drowned. It's a sore piece of business; but it shows a man what his neighbours are, and I won't murmur, only say as you do, it might have been worse." "And thank God for sparing all our lives!" said the squire, taking off his hat. "Amen!" said Farmer Tallington, and for a time there was nothing heard but a sob from Mrs Tallington and the splashing of the poles. But two boys could not keep silence long with the sun shining and the place around wearing so novel a guise; and Dick soon burst out with: "Look, Tom; look at the teal!" He pointed to a flock forming quite a patch upon the water some hundreds of yards away. "Ay," said the squire; "it's good for the wild-fowl, but bad for us. The sooner the place is drained now, neighbour, the better, eh?" "Ay, squire, you're right; but how are we to get rid of all this watter?" "Ah, we must see," said the squire; and Dave and John Warren exchanged glances and shook their heads. "The sooner the draining works are commenced the better." "Toft Fen wean't niver be drained, mester," said Dave in a low voice, as he rested his pole in the punt and stood there looking as if he believed himself to be a prophet. "Oh, you think so, do you, Dave?" said the squire quietly. "I daresay hundreds of years ago, before the sea-wall was made, some men said that no farming could be done in the fen, but the sea has been kept out for all these years." "Ay, but it's come through at last in its natural way, mester," said John Warren. "Yes, John," said the squire: "but we men who think how to live, make nature work for us, and don't work for nature. So we're going to turn the sea off the land again, and drain the fresh water off as well, so as to turn this wild waste into fertile land. Do you hear, Dick?" "Yes, father, I hear," said the lad; and he looked at Dave and John Warren, in whose boat he was, and read incredulity there; and as he gazed over the inundated fen, and thought of fishing, and shooting, and boating there, he felt himself thoroughly on the fen-men's side, while, feeling ashamed of this, he bent over the boat side, scooped up some water in his hand and drank, but only to exclaim, "Ugh!" "Ah! what does it taste like, Dick?" said the squire. "Half salt, father." "Then it is the sea broke in," said the squire. "Ahoy! all right!" he shouted, standing up and waving his cap. "Shout, Dick, and let your mother see you're here. Come, cheer up, Mrs Tallington; there's a warm welcome for you yonder from the wife; the water will soon go down, and we're going to try and protect ourselves from such mischief coming again." The squire was right; there was a warm welcome waiting for the homeless neighbours, to whom, after a good, snug, and hearty breakfast, everything looked very different from what it had seemed during the long dark stormy watches of the night. [Wall, in fen-lands, the artificial bank or ridge of clay raised to keep back river, drain, or sea.] _ |
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