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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 18. Preparations For Flight |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. PREPARATIONS FOR FLIGHT The squire was very quiet over the evening meal, but he looked across at Dick very sternly two or three times, and the lad did not meet his eye. For certain plans which he had been concerting with Tom wore so strange an aspect in his eyes that he felt quite guilty, and the old frank light in his face seemed to have died out as he bent down over his supper, and listened to his father's answers to his mother about the proceedings of the past day. Bed-time at last, and for the first time since he had returned Dick was alone with his mother, the squire having gone to take his customary look round the house. "Good-night, mother!" said Dick in a low sombre manner, very different to his usual way. Mrs Winthorpe did not answer for a moment or two, but gazed full at her son. "And so the magistrate thought you guilty, Dick?" she said. "Yes, mother," he flashed out, "and--" "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs Winthorpe, flinging her arms about his neck. "That's my boy who spoke out then. Dick, if you had spoken out like that to your father and everyone they would not have suspected you for a moment. There, good-night! It will all come right at last." Dick said "good-night" to his father, who gave him a short nod, and then the lad went slowly up to his room, to sit on the edge of the bed and think of the possibility of building a hut out there in the island they had found in the fen, and then of how it would be if he and Tom did so, and went there to live; and when he had debated it well, he asked himself what would be the use, and confessed that it would be all nonsense, and that he had been thinking like a child. "No," he said; "I'm no baby now. All this has made a man of me, and Tom Tallington is right; we must go and begin life somewhere else--where the world will not be so hard." "He will not be here for an hour yet," he thought; so he employed himself very busily in putting together the few things he meant to take on his journey into that little-known place beyond the fen, where there were big towns, and people different to themselves; and as Dick packed his bundle he tried to keep back a weak tear or two which would gather as if to drop on the lavender-scented linen, that reminded him of her who had that night called him her boy. But there was a stubborn feeling upon him which made him viciously knot together the handkerchief ends of his bundle, and then go and stand at the window and watch and listen for the coming of Tom. For he had made up his mind to go with Tom if he came, without him if he failed, for he told himself the world elsewhere would not be so hard. One hour--two hours passed. He heard them strike on the old eight-day clock below. But no Tom. Could he have repented and made up his mind not to keep faith, or was there some reason? Never mind, he would go alone and fight the world, and some day people would be sorry for having suspected him as they did now. He laughed bitterly, and stepped to the open window bundle in hand. He had but to swing himself out and drop to the ground, and trudge away into that romantic land--the unknown. Yes, he would go. "Good-bye, dear mother; father, good-bye!" he whispered softly; and the next moment one foot was over the window-sill, and he was about to drop, when a miserably absurd sound rose on the midnight air, a sound which made him dart back into his room like some guilty creature, as there rang out the strange cry: "He--haw, he--haw!" as dismal a bray as Solomon had ever uttered in his life; and for no reason whatever, as it seemed, Dick Winthorpe went back and sat upon his bed thinking of the wheelwright's words: That if he went away people would declare he fired the shot. "I can't help it," cried Dick at last, after an hour's bitter struggle there in the darkness of the night; and once more he ran to the window, meaning to drop out, when, as if he saw what was about to take place, Solomon roused the echoes about the old buildings with another dismal bray. "Who can run away with a donkey crying out at him like that!" said Dick to himself; and in spite of his misery, he once more seated himself upon the bed-side and laughed. It was more a hysterical than a natural laugh; but it relieved Dick Winthorpe's feelings, and just then the clock struck two. Dick sat on the bed-side and thought. He was not afraid to go--far from it. A reckless spirit of determination had come over him, and he was ready to do anything, dare anything; but all the same the wheelwright's words troubled him, and he could not master the feeling that it would be painful for the constant repetition to come to his mother's knowledge, till even she began to think that there must be some truth in the matter, and he would not be there to defend himself. That was a painful thought, one which made Dick Winthorpe rise and go and seat himself on the window-sill and gaze out over the fen. From where he was seated his eyes ranged over the portion where the drain was being cut; and as he looked, it seemed to him that all his troubles had dated from the commencement of the venture by his father, and those who had joined in the experiment. Then he thought of the evening when Mr Marston had been brought in wounded, and the other cases which had evidently been the work of those opposed to the draining--the fire at Tallington's, the houghing of the horses, the shots fired, the blowing up of the sluice-gate. "And they think I did it all," he said to himself with a bitter laugh; "a boy like me!" Then he began considering as to who possibly could be the culprit, and thought and thought till his head ached, and he rose sadly and replaced the articles in his bundle in the drawer. "I can't go," he said softly. "I'll face it out like a man, and they may say what they like." He stood looking at his bed, with its white pillow just showing in the faint light which came through the open window, but it did not tempt him to undress. "I can't sleep," he said; "and perhaps, if I lie down, I may not hear Tom coming, if he comes. Why is one so miserable? What have I done?" There was no mental answer to his question, and he once more went softly across the room, and sat in the window-sill to gaze out across the fen. How long he had been watching he could not tell, for his brain felt dazed, and he was in a half-dreamy state, when all of a sudden he grew wakeful and alert, for right away out over the mere he saw a faint gleam of light which flashed upon the water and then expired. For a moment he thought that it might have been the reflection of a star, but it flashed out again, and then was gone. The marsh lights always had a strange fascination for him, and this appearance completely changed the current of his thoughts. A few moments before and they were dull and sluggish, now they were all excitement; and he sat there longing for the next appearance when, as of old, he expected to see the faint light go dancing along, as a moth dances over the moist herbage, disappearing from time to time. He strained his eyes, but there was no light, and he was beginning to think that it was fancy, when he heard a faint rustling apparently outside his door; and as he listened, he felt that someone must be going down stairs. Then there was complete silence for a few minutes, and he was ready to think that both the light and the sound were fancy, when all doubts were set at rest, for the door below opened and someone passed out. It was still very dark, in spite of a faint sign of dawn in the north-east; but the watcher had no difficulty in making out the figure which passed silently along in the shadow of the house, and close beneath him, to be that of his father. What did it mean? Dick asked himself as he sat there holding his breath, while he watched intently, and saw his father steal from place to place in the most secretive manner, taking advantage of bush, wall, and outbuilding, and every now and then pausing as if gazing out across the fen. "I know," thought Dick, as a flash of comprehension came across his brain. "He saw that light, and he is watching too." The thought was quite exciting. The reaction as depressing, for directly after he very naturally said to himself: "My father would not get out of bed to watch a will-o'-the-wisp." But suppose it was not a will-o'-the-wisp, but a light! He sat thinking and trying to trace which way his father had gone; and as far as he could make out, he had gone right down to the nearest spot to the water, where, about a hundred yards away, there was fair landing, by one of the many clumps of alder. Dick had just come to the conclusion that he ought not to watch his father, who was angry enough with him as it was, and who would be more suspicious still if he again caught him at the window dressed, and he was about to close it, after wondering whether anyone would be on the water with a light--Dave, for instance--and if so, what form of fowling or netting it would be, when there was a low hiss--such a sound as is made by a snake--just beneath his window. "Dick!" "Hallo!" "Couldn't come before. Ready?" "No," said Dick shortly, for the plan to run away seemed now to belong to some project of the past. "I couldn't come before," whispered Tom. "I was all ready, but father did not go to bed for ever so long; and when at last I thought it was all right, and was ready to start, I heard him go down and open the back-door." "And go out?" whispered Dick. "Yes. How did you know?" "I didn't know, but my father has done just the same." "Oh!" "Did yours come back?" "No," said Tom; "and I daren't start for ever so long. But I've come now, so let's start off quick." "Which way did your father go?" "I don't know, but we're wasting time." "Did he take the boat?" "How should I know? I didn't see him go. I only heard. Come, are you ready?" "No," said Dick hoarsely, and not prepared to tell his companion that he had repented. "How can we go now with them both somewhere about? They would be sure to catch us and bring us back." It was a subterfuge, and Dick's face turned scarlet, as he knew by the burning sensation. The next instant he had felt so ashamed of his paltry excuse that he blurted out: "I sha'n't go. I'm sorry I said I would. It's cowardly, but I don't mean to go--there!" The hot tears of vexation and misery stood in his eyes as he made this confession, and rose up prepared to resent his companion's reproaches with angry words; but he was disarmed, for Tom whispered hastily: "Oh, Dick, I am so glad! I wouldn't show the white feather and play sneak, but I didn't want to go. It seemed too bad to mother and father. But you mean it?" "Yes, I mean it!" said Dick, with a load off his breast. "I felt that it would be like running away because we were afraid to face a charge." "Hooray!" cried Tom in a whisper. "I say, Dick, don't think me a coward, but I am so glad! I say, shall I go back now?" "No; stop a bit," whispered Dick, with his heart beating, and a strange suspicion making its way into his breast. For in an incoherent vague manner he found himself thinking of Farmer Tallington stealing out of his house in the middle of the night. He had a boat, as most of the fen farmers had, for gunning, fishing, and cutting reeds. What was he doing on the water at night? For it must have been he with a light. Then a terrible suspicion flashed across him, and the vague ideas began to shape themselves and grow solid. Suppose it was Farmer Tallington who had been guilty of-- Dick made a strong effort at this point to master his wandering imagination, and forced himself to think only of what he really knew to be the fact, namely, that Farmer Tallington was out somewhere, and that the squire was out too. "My father must have come to meet yours, Dick," whispered Tom at that point. "I know they suspect there's something wrong, and they have gone down to watch the drain, or to meet Mr Marston." "Yes," said Dick, in a tone which did not carry conviction with it. "That must be it." "What shall we do? Go back to bed?" "Ye-es, we had better," said Dick thoughtfully. "I say, Tom, we have done quite right. We couldn't have gone away." "Hist! did you hear that?" For answer Dick strained out of the window. He had heard that--a sudden splashing in the water, a shout--and the next moment there was a flash which cut the darkness apparently a couple of hundred yards away, and then came a dull report, and silence. The boys remained listening for some moments, but they could not hear a sound. The signs of the coming morning were growing plainer; there was a faint twittering in some bushes at a distance, followed by the sharp metallic _chink chink_ of a blackbird; and then all at once, loud and clear from the farm-yard, rang out the morning challenge of a cock. Then once more all was still. There was no footstep, no splash of pole in the water. For a few minutes neither spoke, but listened intently with every nerve upon the strain; and then with a catching of the breath as he realised what had gone before, and that he had seen his father steal carefully down in the direction of the mere, Dick sprang from the window and gripped his companion by the arm. "Tom," he gasped, "quick! come on! Some one else has been--" He would have said _shot_, but his voice failed, and with a cold chill of horror stealing over him he remained for a few moments as if paralysed. Then, with Tom Tallington close behind, he ran swiftly down towards the mere. _ |
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