CHAPTER XIX. I MEET THE CLUB MEN
I wondered when I was to get breakfast; but I knew Lord Grey well
enough to know that he was not a man to go willingly without food
for more than a few hours at a time. Breakfast I should have
presently, nor would it be skin-boiled beef, smelling of singed
hair. So I mounted my cob with a good will. The first trooper
rode by my side, the other waited for a moment to examine the
feet of Lord Grey's charger. He trotted after us, leading the
riderless horse, some fifty yards behind us. We trotted smartly
through Axminster, where we set the dogs barking. People sprang
from their beds when they heard us, fearing that we were an army
coming to fight. We cantered out of the town over the river,
heading towards a hilly country, which had few houses upon it. I
looked back after leaving Axminster, to see if Lord Grey wanted
me. He had mounted his horse somewhere in the town; but he was
now a couple of hundred yards behind us, riding' with a third
man, whom I judged to be Colonel Foukes, by his broad white
regimental scarf. After we had gone a few miles, we came to a
cross-roads where my guide bade me halt to wait for orders.
The others had pulled up, too. I could see Lord Grey examining a
map, while his horse sidled about across the road. The trooper
who had been riding with him, joined us after a while, telling us
to take the road to our right, which would take us, he said,
towards Taunton. We were to keep our eyes skinned, he said, for
any sign of armed men coming on the high-road from Honiton, so as
to threaten our left flank. The gentlemen were going to scout
towards the sea. At eight o'clock, if we had seen no trace of any
armed force coming, we were to make for Chard, where we should
find the Duke's army. We were to examine the roads for any signs
of troops having passed recently towards Taunton. We were to
enquire of the country people, if troops were abroad in that
countryside, what troops they might be, how led, how equipped,
etc. If we came across any men anxious to join the Duke we were
to send them on to Chard or Ilminster, on the easterly road to
Taunton. We were to ride without our green boughs, he said; so
before starting on our road we flung them into the ditches. Lord
Grey waved his hand to us, as he turned away with his friend. We
took off our hats in reply, hardly in a soldierly salute; then we
set off at a walk along the Taunton road. It is a lonely road
leading up to the hills, a straight Roman road, better than any
roads laid in England at that time; but a road which strikes
horror into one, the country through which it runs is so bleak.
By about six o'clock (according to one of the troopers, who
judged by the height of the sun) we were in a clump of firs high
up on a hill, looking over a vast piece of eastern Devon. We had
scouted pretty closely all round Honiton, examining the country
people, without hearing of any troops. We were now looking out
for some gleam upon a road, some rising of dust over a hedge,
some scattering of birds even, any sign of men advancing, which
might be examined more closely. The morning was bright; but the
valleys had mist upon them, which would soon turn to the
quivering blue June heat-haze. The land lay below us, spread out
in huge folds; the fields, all different colours, looked like the
counties on a map; we could see the sea, we could see the gleam
of a little river. We could see Axminster far to the east of us;
but the marching army was out of sight, somewhere on the Chard
high-road. After scanning pretty well all around us, I caught
sight of moving figures on the top of one of the combes to south
of us. We all looked hard at the place, trying to make out more
of them. They were nearly a mile from us. They seemed to be
standing there as sentries. At first we thought that they must be
people with Lord Grey; but as we could see no horses we decided
that they could not be. One of the men said that as far as:i,'l
he'd heard tell like, the combe on which they stood was what they
call a camp, where soldiers lived in the old time. He didn't know
much more about it; but he said that he thought we ought to
examine it, like, before riding on to some inn where we could
breakfast.
The other man seemed to think so, too; but when we came to talk
over the best way of doing our espials, we were puzzled. We
should be seen at once if we went to them directly. We might be
suspected if we approached them on horseback. If the men went,
they might be detained, because, for all that we knew, the combe
might be full of militia. So I said I had better go, since no one
would suspect a boy. To this the men raised a good many
objections, looking at each other suspiciously, plainly asking
questions with their raised eyebrows. I thought at the time that
they were afraid of sending me into a possible danger, because I
was a servant attached to the Duke's person. However, when I said
that I would go on foot, taking all precautions, they agreed
grudgingly to let me go.
I crept along towards this combe on foot, as though I were going
bird's nesting. I beat along by the hedges, keeping out of sight
behind them, till I was actually on the combe's north slope,
climbing up to the old earthwork on the top. I took care to climb
the slope at a place where there was no sentry, which was, of
course, not only the steepest bit of the hill but covered with
gorse clumps, through which I could scarcely thrust my way. Up
towards the top the gorse was less plentiful; there were immense
foxgloves, ferns, little marshy tufts where rushes grew, little
spots of wet bright green moss. Yellow-hammers drawled their
pretty tripping notes to me, not starting away, even when I
passed close to them. All the beauty of June was on the earth
that day; the beauty of everything in that intense blue haze was
wonderful.
The top of the combe was very steep, steeper than any of the
ascent, because it had been built up like an outer wall by the
savages who once lived there with their cattle. I could see just
the bare steep wall of the rampart standing up in a dull green
line of short-grassed turf against the sky, now burning with the
intense blue of summer. One hard quick scramble, with my
fingernails dug into the ground, brought my head to the top of
the rampart, beyond which I could see nothing but great ferns, a
forest of great ferns, already four or five feet high, stretching
away below, into the cup of the camp or citadel. I did not dare
to stand up, lest I should be seen. I burrowed my way among the
ferns over the wall into the hollow, worming my way towards the
edge of the fern clump so that I could see. In a minute, I was
gazing through the fern-stems into the camp itself; it was a
curious sight.
About fifty people (some of them women) were sitting about a
hollow in the ground, which I guessed to be a sort of smokeless
fireplace or earth-oven. Everywhere else, all over the hollow of
the camp, which must have been a full three hundred yards across,
were various kinds of farm-stock, mostly cattle, though there
were many picketed horses, too. At first I thought that I had
climbed into a camp of gipsies, which gave me a scare; for
gipsies then were a wild lot, whom wise folk avoided. Then, as I
glanced about, I saw a sentry standing not thirty yards from me,
but well above me, on the rampart top. He was no gipsy. tie was
an ordinary farmer's lad, with the walk of a ploughman. His
sleeves, which were rolled back, showed me a sun-burnt pair of
arms, such as no gipsy ever had. What puzzled me about him was
his heavy double-barrelled pistol, which he carried in his right
hand, with something of a military cock, yet as though awed by
it. He was not over sure of that same pistol. I could see that he
confounded it in some way with art-magic.
Then I remembered what the old soldier had said the night before
about club men. This camp must be a camp of club men, I thought.
They had come there to protect their stock from the rapine of our
vile pillagers, who had spread such terror amongst the farmers
the day before. Perched up on the combe, with sentries always on
the look-out, they could see the Duke's raiders long before they
came within gunshot. If an armed force had tried to rush the
camp, after learning that the beasts were shut up within it
(which, by the way, no man could possibly suspect until he saw
them from the rampart top), the few defenders clubbed together
there could have kept them out without difficulty; for there was
only one narrow entrance to the camp, so constructed that any one
entering by it could be shot at from three sides, if not from all
four. I looked about me carefully from my hiding-place, till I
decided that I could get a better view from another part of the
fern clump. I began to wriggle through the thick, sweet-scented
stalks, towards the heart of the camp, going with infinite care,
so as not to break down the fern into a path. I hoped to make no
more stir among the fern-tops than would be made by one of the
many pigs scattering about in the enclosure.
While I was crawling along in this way, I suddenly heard a
curious noise from an intensely thick part of the fern in front
of me. It was a clinking noise, followed by a sort of dry
rasping, as though a very big person were gritting his teeth very
hard. It stopped suddenly, but soon began again. I thought that
it must be some one mending harness with a file, or perhaps some
old sheep or cow, with the remnants of a bell about her neck,
licking a stone for salt. As was in an adventure, I thought that
I would see it out to the end; for I was enjoying my morning. In
spite of the want of breakfast I felt very like a red Indian or a
pirate, creeping through the jungle to the sack of a treasure
train. So I wormed on towards the noise. As I came near to it, I
went more cautiously, because in one of the pauses of the noise,
I heard a muttered curse, which told me that the unseen
noise-maker was a man. If I had been wise I should have stopped
there; for I had learned all that I came out to learn. But I was
excited now. I wished to see everything, before creeping away
unseen to make my report. Perhaps I wished to see something which
had nothing to do with the club men, a private main of cocks,
say, or a dog, or bull-baiting, carried on with some of the
squire's creatures, but without his knowledge. I had a half wish
that I might have something of the kind to report; because in my
heart I longed to say nothing to any of the Duke's party which
might lead to the ruin of these poor people who were trying so
hard to protect their property.
A few feet further on, I was wishing most heartily that I had
never left my room in London. It was like this. In the very heart
of the fern clump, where the ferns were tallest, a little spring
bubbled out of the ground, at the rate, I suppose, of a pint of
water in a minute. The ferns grew immensely thick there; but
someone had thinned out a few of the roots from the ground,
leaving the uprooted plant with the ferns still living, to form a
rough kind of thatch above a piece of earth big enough for a
man's body. In the scented shade of this thatch, with the side of
his face turned towards me, a big, rough, bearded man sat, filing
away some bright steel irons which were riveted on his ankles. He
swore continually in a low whisper as he worked, not even pausing
in his curses when he spat on to the hollow scraped in the irons
by his file. He was the fiercest looking savage of a man I have
ever seen. His face had a look of stern, gloomy cruelty which I
shall never forget. His general appearance was terrible; for he
had a face burnt almost black by the sun (some of it may have
been mud) with a nasty white scar running irregularly all down
his left cheek, along the throat to the shoulder. He was not what
you might call naked. a naked man, such as I have seen since in
the hot countries, would have looked a nobleman beside him. He
wore a pair of dirty linen knickerbockers, all frayed into
ribbons at the knees, a pair of strong hide slippers bound to his
ankles by strips of leather, a part of a filthy red shirt without
sleeves, a hat stolen from a scarecrow, nothing else whatever,
except the mud of many days' gathering. His shirt was torn all
down the back in a great slit which he had tried to secure by
what the sailors call "Bristol buttons," i.e. pieces of string.
The red flannel hung from him so as to show his back, all
criss-crossed with flogging scars. I knew at once from the irons
that he was a criminal escaped from gaol; but the criss-crossed
scars taught me that he was a criminal of the most terrible kind,
probably one who had shipped into the Navy to avoid hanging.
I took in a view of him before he saw me. His image was stamped
on my brain in less than ten seconds. In the eleventh second, I
was lying on my back in the gloom of the fern-growth, with this
great ruffian on my chest, squeezing me by my windpipe. I cannot
say that he spoke to me. It was not speech. It was the snarling
wild beast gurgle which passes for speech in the slums of our
great cities, as though all the filth of a low nature were
choking in the throat at once. He was on me too quickly for me to
cry out. I could only lie still, cackling for breath, while the
fierce face glowered down on me. I understood him to say that he
would have my windpipe out if I said a word. I suppose he saw
that I was only a very frightened boy; for his clutch upon me
relaxed, after a few awful, gasping moments. When he loosed his
hold, his great hand pawed over my throat till he had me by the
scruff of the neck. He drew me over towards the spring, as one
would draw a puppy. Then, still crouching in the fern, he hurried
me to a single stunted sloe-bush which grew there. "Go down,
you," he said, giving me a shove towards the bush. "Down th'
'ole."
Just behind the sloe-bush, under a fringe of immense ferns, was
an opening in the earth, about eighteen inches high, by two feet
across. It was like a large rabbit or fox earth, except that the
mouth of it was not worn bare. I did not like the thought of
going down th' 'ole; but with this great griping fist on my nape
there was not much sense in saying so. I wormed my way in, helped
on by prods from the file. It was a melancholy moment when my
head passed beyond the last filtering of light into the tomb's
blackness, where not even insects lived. After a moment of
scrambling I found that the passage was big enough for me to go
on all fours. It was a dry passage, too, which seemed strange to
me; but on reaching out with my hand I felt that the walls were
lined with well laid stones, unmortared. The roof above me was
also of stone. You may wonder why I did not shoot this ruffian
with my pistol. You boys think that if you had a pistol you would
shoot any one who threatened you. You would not. When the moment
comes, it is not so easily disposed of. Besides, a filthy,
cursing pirate on your throat checks your natural calm most
strangely.
The passage led into the swell of the rampart for about twenty
yards, where it opened into a dimly lighted chamber about four
feet high. A little blink of light came through a rabbit hole, at
the end of which I saw a spray of gorse with the sunlight on it.
I could see by the dim light that the chamber was built of
unmortared stones, very cleverly laid. The floor of it was
greasier than the passage had been, but still it was not damp. On
one side it had a bed of heather stalks, on the other there was
something dark which felt like cold meat. The man came grunting
in behind me, clinking his leg-irons. After groping about in a
corner of the room he lighted a stinking rushlight by means of a
tinder box.
