The Poacher; Or, Joseph Rushbrook. Фредерик Марриет

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СКАЧАТЬ the schoolmaster, who put his hand up to his chin, and remained silent for a minute or two. “No,” resumed he, at last; “on second thoughts I cannot do it. He halves his beer with me. No pension—no beer; that’s a self-evident proposition and conclusion. It were ingratitude on my part, and I cannot consent to your proposal,” continued the schoolmaster; “nay, more, I will defend him against your murderous intentions to the very last.”

      “Why, Master Furness, you must be somewhat the worse for liquor yourself: it was your proposal to throw him over the bridge, not mine.”

      “Take care what you say,” replied the schoolmaster; “would you accuse me of murder, or intent to murder?”

      “No, not by no means—only you proposed heaving him over the bridge: I will say that.”

      “Friend Byres, it’s my opinion you’ll say anything but your prayers; but in your present state I overlook it. Let us go on, or I shall have two men to carry home instead of one. Come, now, take one of his arms, while I take the other, and raise him up. It is but a quarter of a mile to the cottage.”

      Byres, who, as we observed, was by far the more sober of the two, did not think it worth his while to reply to the pedagogue. After a few staggers on the part of the latter, their comrade was raised up and led away between them.

      The drunken man appeared to be so far aware of what was going on that he moved his legs mechanically, and in a short time they arrived at the cottage-door, which the pedagogue struck with his fist so as to make it rattle on its hinges. The door was opened by a tall, handsome woman, holding a candle in her hand.

      “I thought so,” said she, shaking her head. “The old story: now he will be ill all night, and not get up till noon.”

      “What a weary life it is with a drunken husband. Bring him and thank you kindly for your trouble.”

      “It has been hard work and hot work,” observed the schoolmaster, sitting down in a chair, after they had placed their comrade on the bed.

      “Indeed, and it must be,” replied the wife. “Will you have a drop of small beer, Mr. Furness?”

      “Yes, if you please, and so will Mr. Byres, too. What a pity it is your good man will not keep to small beer.”

      “Yes, indeed,” replied the wife, who went into the back premises, and soon returned with a quart mug of beer.

      The schoolmaster emptied half the mug, and then handed it to the pedlar.

      “And my little friend Joey, fast asleep, I’ll warrant!”

      “Yes, poor child, and so should I have been by this time; the clock has gone twelve.”

      “Well, Mrs. Rushbrook, I wish you a good night. Come, Mr. Byres, Mrs. Rushbrook must want to be in bed.”

      “Good night, Mr. Furness, and good night, sir, and many thanks.”

      The schoolmaster and pedlar quitted the cottage. Mrs. Rushbrook, after having watched them for a minute, carefully closed the door.

      “They’re gone now,” said she, as she turned to her husband.

      What would have created much astonishment could anybody else have witnessed it, as soon as his wife had spoken, Rushbrook immediately sprang upon his feet, a fine-looking man, six feet in height, very erect in his bearing—and proved to be perfectly sober.

      “Jane, my dear,” said he, “there never was such a night: but I must be quick, and lose no time. Is my gun ready?”

      “Everything’s ready; Joey is lying down on his bed, but all ready dressed, and he awakes in a minute.”

      “Call him, then, for there is no time to lose. That drunken fool, Furness, proposed throwing me over the bridge. It was lucky for them that they did not try it, or I should have been obliged to settle them both, that they might tell no tales. Where’s Mum?”

      “In the wash-house. I’ll bring him and Joey directly.”

      The wife left the room, while Rushbrook took down his gun and ammunition, and prepared himself for his expedition. In a minute or two a shepherd’s dog, which had been released from the wash-house, made his appearance, and quietly lay down close to his master’s feet; it was soon followed by Mrs. Rushbrook, accompanied by Joey, a thin, meagre-looking boy, of about twelve years old, very small for his age, but apparently as active as a cat, and with energy corresponding. No one would have thought he had been roused from his sleep; there was no yawning or weariness of motion—on the contrary, his large eye was as bright as an eagle’s, as he quietly, although quickly, provided himself with a sack, which he threw over his shoulders, and a coil of line, which he held in his hand, waiting until his father was ready to start. The wife put out the lights, softly opened the cottage-door, looked well round, and then returned to her husband, who, giving a low whistle, as a summons to Joey and the dog, walked out of the door. Not a word was spoken; the door was softly shut to; and the trio crept stealthily away.

Chapter Two.

       Table of Contents

      In which the Hero of the Tale is formally Introduced.

      Before we proceed with our narrative, perhaps it will be better to explain what may appear very strange to the reader. Joseph Rushbrook, who has just left the cottage with his son and his dog, was born in the village in which he was then residing. During his younger days, some forty years previous to his present introduction to the reader, the law was not so severe, or the measures taken against poachers so strong as they were at the period of which we write. In his youth he had been very fond of carrying a gun—as his father had been before him—but he never was discovered; and after having poached for many years, and gained a perfect knowledge of the country for miles round, he was persuaded, in a fit of semi-intoxication, at a neighbouring fair, to enlist in a marching regiment. He had not been more than three months at the depot when he was ordered out to India, where he remained eleven years before he was recalled. He had scarcely been six months in England, when the exigency of the war demanded the services of the regiment in the Mediterranean, where he remained for twelve years, and having received a severe wound in the head, he was then pensioned off and discharged. He resolved to return to his native village, and settle down quietly, hoping by moderate labour and his pension, to gain a comfortable living. On his return he was hardly known; many had emigrated to a foreign clime; many had been transported for offences against the laws, particularly for the offence of poaching: and as most of his former allies had been so employed, he found himself almost a stranger where he expected to meet with friends. The property also about the village had changed hands. People recollected Squire So-and-So, and the Baronet, but now their lands were held by wealthy manufacturers or retired merchants. All was new to Joe Rushbrook, and he felt himself anywhere but at home. Jane Ashley, a very beautiful young woman, who was in service at the Hall, the mansion appertaining to the adjacent property, and the daughter of one of his earliest friends, who had been transported for poaching, was almost the only one who could talk to him after his absence of twenty-four years; not that she knew the people at the time, for she was then an infant, but she had grown up with them after Joe had left, and could narrate anecdotes of them, and what had been their eventual destinies. Jane having been the daughter of a man who had been transported for poaching, was to Joe a sort of recommendation, and it ended in his taking her for his wife. СКАЧАТЬ