menu_book Chapter 12

CHAPTER VI. Roel meets the Devil in Bridgewater. This, at least, is the present reward of virtuous conduct, that no unlucky consequence can oblige us to repent it. RASALAS CHAPTER XXXIV Probably as the result of the longer rest, for it could hardly be attributed to the brandy,

Roel found his head much better next morning, though in body he did not feel very vigorous. No official inquiry was made as to his condition, nor, indeed, had he expected one. But, to his surprise, after all the other couples in the barn had been shackled together, he was marched out alone, led up to the already mounted officer, and fastened by his left wrist with a stout cord to that gentleman's off-stirrup.

The procession started from the new inn. It was a lovely morning of a dewy freshness, the road, now level, still ran along the crest of the ridge and afforded beautiful wide views. Roel looked at them, hardly thinking about his unusual situation, or the officer whose spurred foot his hand was almost touching. The only thing that mattered was whether he would be able to get through today's march

without another faiblesse. Yet, annoyed though he was at collapsing yesterday, it had been beyond his power to prevent it. But that afternoon at Norman Cross, what sort of an idea of a soldier of the Empire had he given Miss Forrest on that occasion? He had ever since been acutely ashamed of his unmanly display, and yet, it was possible that but for it he would never have received from her that angelic assurance of compassion.

At that moment she had been as Notre Dame de Boursicourt, to whom one might without reproach disclose one's needs. But since that day no man at any rate had seen him show the white feather, nor was any man going to. They had gone perhaps a couple of miles in silence when Lieutenant Hunter said suddenly, Lieutenant Hunter said suddenly,

As Gaulle, surprised, looked up at him, he added, just as abruptly, that will help you along, won't it? Thank you, said Gaulle, and moving his hand a little, gripped the taut song. Silence descended for another half-mile or so, and then the rider demanded, How did you contrive to time your swoon so well yesterday?

How one hardly times those events, replied Gaulle with a little frown. Oh, it was suspiciously near the inn, however. If that ruffian had not carried you in there, he would never have got away. I knew nothing of any inn, replied Gaulle briefly. I went on as long as I could, and that is all.

We have a long march before us today, was the next observation. How I assure you that I shall not fall out again if I can help it, responded the tethered young man. Then he added politely, This stirrup leather will be of great assistance to me. The officer said nothing, and Gaulle returned to his reflections.

The lieutenant could hardly continue to believe in his collusion with Sacklewhee if he were to tell him, which he did not mean to do, of the episode of his watch, the absence of which he himself had not discovered till this morning. Yet, after the first shock of disgust, he could almost wish the thief luck of it, for his compassion had been as genuine as his opportunism, and, as the English said,

one could not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. But the loss was more than pecuniary and inconvenient, for the watch had been his father's. But what would his father say if he could see him now, tied up to an enemy's saddle? And probably that it was the fitting reward for serving a pecuni, like Bonaparte. And pof a pec, he would be terribly upset.

Luckily he could not see. He believed his son to be in prison, it was true, but only because the privilege of parole had been temporarily withdrawn for a time. A fiction which Gaulle had hoped his family would not discover to be such. Of his latest misfortune, they were as yet ignorant.

He supposed it would have to be broken to them somehow. Here the saddle above him gave a creak, he felt fingers about his wrist, and, turning his head, found that the officer was stooping. The cord is not loose, not at all, remarked the prisoner. I was feeling if it were not, on the contrary, too tight, responded the rider, as curtly as ever.

Were you in irons at Norman Cross before you started? Yes, for three days. Oh, I thought so. Why is your hand bleeding now? Gaulle looked at it.

For my own carelessness, I expect. I must have scratched it against your spur. I'm sorry, said the officer with extreme brevity, and the conversation dropped once more. On the whole, Gaulle did not regret this. He could better devote his energies to the business in hand, getting the siren saster.

He certainly did not regret that he had the stirrup leather. North leech at last, and a halt. The officer dismounted and went into the innyard, while Gaulle hastily threw his arm over the saddle, and, leaning against the horse, stared very hard at the fine old church in front of him, round whose pinnacle tower the Swifts were holding their aerial games.

The officer came out again, followed by an ostler leading a saddle horse. I'm going to mount you as far as siren saster, he said shortly to Gaulle, and began untying the cord. You are very kind, sir, said the young man, greatly surprised. But, though I would willingly do so, I've no money to pay for the hire of a horse.

The transport board must do that, replied the lieutenant, if they give me men to conduct who are not fit to march. And Gaulle got up, thankful for the indulgence, whatever were the officer's motive in granting it. He had not been across a horse since the day of Salamanca, when his own beloved Bayard had been killed under him.

He was not now allowed the reins, and the cord, still round his wrist, was in the grasp of the soldier who had control of these. But in this manner he voyaged comfortably enough along the false way, the cock-tage having turned south for siren saster just beyond North leech. Prisoners and escort alike were tired when they got there,

and Gaulle felt rather ashamed of the privilege of being mounted. One or two remarks of no kindly nature were indeed made about it, that night in the stables of the inn where they were quartered. Next morning, therefore, he got hold of the sergeant when he entered to put on the fetters of the rest, and said that if the officers were thinking of procuring a horse for him that day,

he was deeply grateful, but he was not sure of the situation. But that as he was now quite recovered, he would prefer to go on foot like the others. So he was once more attached to Lieutenant Hunter's stirrup. But as this operation was carried through, not outside a lonely inn, but in the middle of busy siren saster, it attracted some attention and comment.

The officer's brow was like thunder, and Gaulle himself did not much relish the publicity of it. And the charger, impossibly too well supplied with corn in that hunting centre, was unusually metalsome after they had started, which, though it occasioned no particular disturbance to his rider, was once or twice distinctly uncomfortable for the prisoner, and a shade ignominious as well.

He was obliged to hold tightly to the stirrup leather to prevent sudden drags of the cord upon his wrist. "'Be quiet, you brute!' exclaimed Lieutenant Hunter in extreme exasperation, as a wilder plunge almost took Gaulle off his feet. I'll teach you to play the circus horse.' And by a very liberal use of the curb, he did succeed in subduing his steed,

so that by the time they were out of siren saster, the animal's behaviour had become normal again. But his rider's temper had not. "'What is the thrice damned nuisance, having you strung on to me like this?' he observed angrily to Gaulle, as though it were an arrangement forced on him by the latter, and Gaulle was moved to retort dryly that it was no source of enjoyment to him either.

And then, after a quarter of an hour's complete silence, Mr. Hunter electrified him by saying abruptly, "'I suppose you gave me your parole of honour,' and marched free. "'My parole,' exclaimed Gaulle. A slow flush burnt his face. "'Would you take it? I am supposed I've broken it once.' "'I know that,' snapped the officer.

"'No, I have no right to take it, and if you break it, I shall get into the deuce of a mess. Perhaps that consideration might have some slight weight with you.' "'No, not in the least,' was the young Frenchman's unexpected reply. "'My parole, once given, does not depend on considerations.' Lieutenant Hunter looked down at him and then gave a short laugh.

"'Pun my soul, if you really have those sentiments,' then Gaulle reflected. Tied up or chained up, he had no more chance of escaping than if he were inexorably bound by his word, and by one method or the other he must, obviously, be secured. Moreover, he had never seriously contemplated an attempt to escape during the day, surrounded as he was by an armed escort,

and clad in his very noticeable uniform. But he still hoped that there might come a night, and he would be able to escape.' "'I will give you my word of honor to make no attempt to escape on the march,' he said. "'Ah, you intend to make off during the night, then?' "'I don't say so,' replied Gaulle.

"'But I do say that if you also require my parole for those hours when we are all unfettered, you are putting too high a price on the privilege you offer. I will give you my promise for the daytime, and thank you for the courtesy, but otherwise I must refuse it.' "'Well, I suppose I must be content with that,' said the lieutenant.

"'You definitely engage, then, to make no attempt to escape during the day on the march.' "'I give you my most solemn word of honor not to do so,' replied Gaulle, looking straight up at him. "'Very good,' said Mr. Hunter, and lost no time in acting on this assurance. He withdrew his foot from the stirrup, pulled up the iron, and cut the cord with a penknife. "'At the next halt I will tell the sergeant about you, and you may march where you please in the

column. For the present, however, you had better stay here.' Gaulle thanked him. He was puzzled by this treatment. He had made not the slightest attempt at work on the officer's feelings, and after the affair of Sac-a-Louis had been fully prepared for harsh dealing. Nor did the lieutenant's manner to him suggest leniency. Yet first he had procured him a horse, and now was extending to him an indulgence that Gaulle had

never dreamt of, and which might very well get its originator into trouble if it ever came to be known. He concluded that Mr. Hunter must dislike his society so much that he was willing to go to any lengths to be rid of it. Yet surely, in that case, he could have had him tied up to one of the escort, since regulations declared that he had lost his status as an officer. "'You're welcome to my stirrup leather still, if you wish,' said the object of his surmises

presently, and Gaulle, thanking him, took it again, not wishing to appear churlish. And now that Mr. Hunter no longer had him on the end of a string, he seemed to have a weight off his mind also, and became a little more talkative. For the first time addressed him as captain, inquired about his military experiences in the peninsula, and expressed regret that he himself had not seen service there. That day's stage and the next were designedly short ones, and this fact,

together with his having had a mount in the absence of hot sun, worked a remarkable change in Gaulle's physical condition. He was no longer giddy, nor did his headache. Indeed, he was soon feeling positive benefit from the open air and the exercise which had been denied him at Norman Cross. But all the while he and his companions were proceeding steadily nearer to their doom. At Chilcompton eight men made a determined effort to escape after dark.

Gaulle, as it happened, knew nothing of this design, and thinking it over afterwards he suspected that they had been careful to keep it from him. For since he had been paroled they had shown a certain jealousy and suspicion of him, though they had never been openly disrespectful after the first night at Thrabsden. But the attempt was frustrated, and one of the fugitives slightly wounded. Gaulle himself still cherished the idea of escape

during the night, but he intended his attempt, when he made it, to be successful, and so far he had seen no really good opening. He was mentally hampered as well by a perfectly illogical feeling that his escape would be a poor return for Lieutenant Hunter's indulgence. He knew that this was a ridiculous scruple, yet he almost wished, sometimes, that he had not accepted his offer. But the days went on. Bath, Wells, Glastonbury were behind the Pilgrims, and soon

they would be in Devonshire itself, and the picture of the Hawks began to loom more and more blackly. Gaulle was not going tamely to them without one final throw for liberty, whatever it cost. When the chance came. It did come on the fifteenth day, but not as he had expected. They had just marched through Bridgewater, and were going to make their prolonged midday halt about half a mile on the farther side of the town, when Gaulle, discovering that he had lost his one

remaining pocket handkerchief, asked the lieutenant if he might go back into Bridgewater and buy one. Mr. Hunter readily gave him permission, warning him, however, to be back in three quarters of an hour. And Gaulle walked off, unescorted, as in the days of Wanfield, which now seemed so remote. Merely for the pleasure of feeling free to do so, he spent some time in the little linen draper's shop, although they were out of pocket handkerchiefs. Youma Furner, surely, observed

the apple-cheeked old Somerset women, looking at his uniform, and Gaulle admitted it. And where be going to? she asked, evidently not having been among the inhabitants who had turned out to witness the passage of the gang a little before. To the hulks, mother replied Gaulle. I am a French prisoner. The old lady lifted up her hands and exclaimed in horror. Oh, my dear soul! You, so comely as you be, to one of the terrible places!

Jan, Jan, do we hear that? she called out to someone behind, and Gaulle had a momentary glimpse of a bearded man in a jersey before he bade her farewell and left the little shop. He had still, he saw by a clock, plenty of time, and strolled about the town a little, not unnoticed by various small boys. Just by an old inn whose carving interested him, he felt a touch on his arm, and turning, saw the bearded man of the linen draper's shop,

with a companion of the same type. As do want a word with thee, sir, he said, in a low voice, and impelled by curiosity, Gaulle went with them a little way up the alley at the side of the hostel we. As do belong to minehead, sir, continued the bearded one, and our boat be here to the quay, and with tide wind down and wind astern. It is only a matter of five mile down the parrot any day.

The parrot? Five miles? What on earth do you mean? asked Gaulle, bewildered. The bearded Jan approached still nearer. He smelled of ropes, tar, and a little of fish. Bring thee French officer, and don't he want a boat to the coast, and no questions asked, lying snug under a spare sail. His eyes twinkled suggestively. Gaulle stared at him as if he were the serpent compounded with Eve.

I can't, he said slowly, turning rather pale. I've given my word not to escape. And then the more fooled you, asking your pardon, observed the other man. Oh, come now, said Jan coaxingly. Once you out of thy crazy clothes. We have Jersey on your back. Who's to say a word to we between here and Bridgewater Bay? And once in the Bristol Channel. Speak in the tongue so easy like.

You but to work round the coast in a fishing smack or two, and in Mounts Bay, full of smugglers, tis. You takes. No, no, said Gaulle, backing away from the siren on which the other took up the tail. Is it money, sir? As can see you'm a gentleman, and us would trust thee till such time as. For God's sake, don't tempt me like this, cried poor Gaulle, and pushing him off,

literally ran out of the alley, and made as fast as he could along the street, so fast that a spectator might have thought he was really absconding. And then he remembered that he had not bought his handkerchiefs. He went into another linen draper's, where he had to wait before he could be served, so that when at last he came in sight of the encampment by the roadside,

he saw signs of activity, and deduced that he had exceeded the time allotted to him. He quickened his steps once more. A boat, the river, the Bristol Channel only five miles away. If only he could, if only he could. It was a cruel vision, and he felt that it was going to haunt him. He came up to the group in the road, but his head was too full of where he might have been

to observe the expression on the face of the sergeant as he called out to Mr. Hunter, already in the saddle. Here he is, sir. Am I late, sir? Inquired Cole. I am extremely sorry. Then, like a thunder clap, comprehension came to him. They were surprised to see him at all. I understood that you had accepted my parole, he said in a hard voice, looking very straight at the young man on the horse.

I, yes, that is, damn it, there's been the misunderstanding, stammered Mr. Hunter. Fall in, he said sharply to the men, and then swung off his horse and approached the Frenchman where he stood stiffly in the road, clutching his little parcel rather tightly. You must forgive me, but I thought, and when I heard that you had been seen talking to a couple of sailors, you sent a spy after me then. I told the sergeant to follow you.

Put yourself in my place, the sabliac, cried Lieutenant Hunter, now thoroughly shaken. I know very little of you. I ought not to have made this arrangement about parole, and when you had gone, it appeared to me that you had created this opportunity for yourself rather too neatly. I felt what a thundering fool I had been, and when the sergeant came back, reported that you had given him the slip, but that someone had seen you in conversation with

two fishermen, I thought the temptation had been too much for you. Well, it was nearly, admitted Raoul, a queer little smile creeping round his mouth. You see, it was so unexpected, for my errand, I assure you, was quite genuine, and I had no idea that I was going to meet the devil in Bridgewater. You mean you had the chance of getting away? Since you ask, yes. I suppose I might already be sailing down the river with a curious name, by invitation. But, of course,

it was not possible. I'm sorry if I've delayed you. Will you accept my most profound apologies? asked Mr. Hunter, studying the road with a noticeable increase of color on his countenance. I shall know better next time. And raising his eyes, he drew himself up and saluted his prisoner as he might have done Lord Wellington himself.

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