<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L.</SPAN><br/> <span class="small1">A BRAVE MAN RUNS AWAY.</span></h2>
<p>It may be the power of honesty, or it may be strength of character
coupled with a more than usual brightness of sagacity—but
whatever the cause may be, the result seems always to be
the same, in spite of inborn humility—to wit, that poor old
Davy Llewellyn, wherever his ups and downs may throw him,
always has to take the lead! This necessity, as usual, seemed
to be arising now at Narnton Court—the very last place in the
world where one could have desired it. Since the present
grand war began (with the finest promise of lasting, because
nobody knows any cause for it, so that it must be a law of
nature), I have not found much occasion to dwell upon common
inland incidents. These are in nature so far below all
maritime proceedings, that a sailor is tempted to forget such
trifles as people are doing ashore.</p>
<p>Even upon Holy Scripture (since the stirring times began for
me henceforth to chronicle), it has not been my good-luck to
be able to sit and think of anything. Nevertheless I am
almost sure that it must have been an active man of the name
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_335">[Pg 335]</SPAN></span>
of Nehemiah, who drew for his rations every day, one fat ox,
and six choice sheep, and fowls of order various.</p>
<p>All of these might I have claimed, if my capacity had been
equal to this great occasion. Hence it may be well supposed
that the kitchen was my favourite place, whenever I deigned
to enter into converse with the servants. At first the head-cook
was a little shy; but I put her soon at her ease by describing
(from my vast breadth of experience) the proper manner
to truss and roast a man—and still better a woman. The
knowledge I displayed upon a thing so far above her level,
coupled with my tales of what we sailors did in consequence,
led this excellent creature so to appreciate my character, and
thirst for more of my narratives, that I never could come amiss,
even at dishing-up time.</p>
<p>But here I fell into a snare, as every seaman is sure to do
when he relaxes his mind too much in the charms of female
society. Not concerning the cook herself—for I gave her to
understand at the outset that I was not a marrying man, and
she (possessing a husband somewhere) resolved not to hanker
after me—but by means of a fair young maid, newly apprenticed
to our head-cook, although of a loftier origin.</p>
<p>More than once, while telling my stories, I had obtained a
little glimpse of long bright ringlets flashing and of shy young
eyes just peeping through the hatch of the scullery-door, where
the huckaback towel hung down from the roller. And then,
on detection, there used to ensue a very quick fumbling of
small red hands, as if being dried with a desperate haste in
the old jack-towel; and then a short sigh, and light feet
retiring.</p>
<p>When this had happened for three or four times, I gave my
head-cook a sudden wink, and sprang through the scullery-door
and caught the little red hands in the fold of the towel, and
brought forth the owner, in spite of deep blushes, and even a
little scream or two. Then I placed her in a chair behind the
jack-chains, and continued my harrowing description of the
way I was larded for roasting once; by a score of unclothed
Gabooners. Also how the skewers of bar-wood thrust in to
make me of a good rich colour, when I should come to table,
had not that tenacity which our English wood is gifted with;
so that I was enabled to shake (after praying to God for assistance)
my right arm out, and then my left; and after clapping
both together (to restore circulation), it came providentially
into my head to lay hold of the spit and charge them. And
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_336">[Pg 336]</SPAN></span>
then ensued such a scene as I could not even think of laying
before young and delicate females.</p>
<p>This young girl, whoso name was "Polly," always (at this
pitch of terror) not only shivered but shuddered so, and needed
support for her figure beyond the power of stays to communicate,
also let such tears begin to betray themselves and then
retreat, and then come out and defy the world, with a brave
sob at their back almost,—that I do not exaggerate in saying
how many times I had the pleasure of roasting myself for the
sake of them.</p>
<p>However it always does turn out that pleasures of this sort
are transient; and I could not have been going on with Polly
more than ten days at the utmost, when I found myself in a
rare scrape, to be sure. And this was the worse, because Sir
Philip so strongly desired my presence now, perhaps in the
vain hope of my convincing that obstinate Squire of his brother's
innocence, when that brother should return.</p>
<p>Now I need not have spoken as yet of Miss Polly if she had
been but a common servant, because in that case her peace of
mind would have been of no consequence to the household.
But, as it happened, she was a person of no small importance,
by reason of the very lofty nature of her connections: for she
was no less than genuine niece to the lady-housekeeper Mrs
Cockhanterbury herself. And hence she became the innocent
cause of my departure from Narnton Court, before I had time
to begin my inquiries about the two poor little children.</p>
<p>This I had made up my mind to do, as soon as that strange
idea had crossed it, while I was gazing upon the sea; and my
meaning was to go through all the traces that might still be
found of them, and the mode of their disappearance. It is
true that this resolve was weakened by a tempest which arose
that very same evening after the Channel had looked so insignificant,
and which might have been expected after that appearance.
Nevertheless I must have proceeded according to my
intention, if my heart had not been too much for me in the
matter of Polly Cockhanterbury.</p>
<p>Being just now in my sixtieth year, I could not prove such a
coxcomb, of course, as to imagine that a pretty girl of two-and-twenty
could care for me, so that no course remained open to
me as an honourable man and gallant British officer who studies
his own peace of mind, except to withdraw from this too tempting
neighbourhood.</p>
<p>And in this resolution I was confirmed by Mrs Cockhanterbury's
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_337">[Pg 337]</SPAN></span>
reluctance to declare in a binding manner her intentions
towards her niece. Also by finding that somehow or other the
whole of the ground-floor at Narnton Court had taken it into
their heads to regard me as a man of desirable substance. It
is possible that in larger moments, when other people were
boasting, I may have insisted a little too much upon my
position as landowner in the parish of Newton Nottage. Also
I may have described too warmly my patronage of the schoolmaster,
and investment of cash with a view to encourage the
literature of the parish. But I never could have said—what
all of them deposed to—such a very strong untruth, as to convey
the conclusion (even to a Devonshire state of mind), that
Colonel Lougher and I divided the whole of the parish between
us!</p>
<p>Be that as it may, there was not any maid over thirty who
failed to set her cap at me, and my silver hair was quite
restored to a youthful tinge of gold. Hence I was horrified
at the thought that Polly might even consent to have me for
the sake of my property, and upon discovering its poetical
existence, lead me a perfectly wretched life, as bad as that of
poor Heaviside.</p>
<p>So that, in spite of all attractions, and really serious business,
and the important duty of awaiting the Captain's return from
Pomeroy Castle, and even in spite of Jerry Toms' offer to take
Polly off my hands—as if she would say a word to him!—and
all the adjurations of poor Heaviside, who had defied his wife
(all the time I was there to back him up), and now must have
to pay out for it—what did I do but agree to doff my uniform,
and work my passage on board the Majestic, a fore-and-aft-rigged
limestone boat of forty-eight tons and a half? Of course
she was bound on the usual business of stealing the good
Colonel Lougher's rocks, but I distinctly stipulated to have
nothing to do with that.</p>
<p>My popularity now was such, with all ranks of society, also
I found myself pledged for so many stories that same evening,
that I imparted to none except Sir Philip, and Polly, and
Jerry Toms, and Heaviside, and one or two more, the scheme
of my sudden departure. My mind was on the point of changing
when I beheld sweet Polly's tears, until I felt that I must
behave, at my time of life, as her father would; because she
had no father.</p>
<p>When I brought the Majestic into shallow water off the
Tuskar, every inch of which I knew, it was no small comfort
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_338">[Pg 338]</SPAN></span>
to me that I could not see the shore. For years I had longed
to see that shore, and dreamed of it perpetually, while tossing
ten thousand miles away; and now I was glad to have it
covered with the twilight fogginess. It suited me better to
land at night, only because my landing would not be such as
I was entitled to. And every one knows how the Navy and
Army drop in public estimation, when the wars seem to be
done with. Therefore I expected little; and I give you my
word that I got still less.</p>
<p>It may have been over eleven o'clock, but at any rate nothing
to call very late, just at the crest of the summer-time, when I
gave three good strong raps at the door of my own cottage,
knowing exactly where the knots were. I had not met a single
soul to know me, or to speak my name, although the moon
was a quarter old, and I found a broken spar, and bore it as
I used to bear my fishing-pole.</p>
<p>No man who has not been long a-roving can understand all
the fluttering ways of a man's heart when he comes home
again. How he looks at every one of all the old houses he
knows so well; at first as if he feared it for having another
piece built on, or grander people inside of it. And then upon
finding this fear vain, he is almost ready to beg its pardon
for not having looked at it such a long time. It is not in
him to say a word to, or even about, the children coming
out thus to stare at him. All the children he used to know
are gone to day's work long ago; and the new ones would
scarcely trust him so as to suck a foreign lollipop. He knows
them by their mothers; but he cannot use their names to
them.</p>
<p>There is nothing solid dwelling for a poor man long away,
except the big trees that lay hold upon the ground in earnest,
and the tomb-stones keeping up his right to the parish churchyard.
Along the wall of this I glanced, with joy to keep outside
of it; while I struck, for the third time strongly, at not
being let into mine own house.</p>
<p>At last a weak and faltering step sounded in my little
room, and then a voice came through the latch-hole, "Man
of noise, how dare you thus? you will wake up our young
lady."</p>
<p>"Master Roger, let me in. Know you not your own landlord?"</p>
<p>The learned schoolmaster was so astonished that he could
scarcely draw back the bolt. "Is it so? Is it so indeed? I
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_339">[Pg 339]</SPAN></span>
thank the Lord for sending thee," was all he could say, while
he stood there shaking both my hands to the very utmost that
his slender palms could compass.</p>
<p>"Friend Llewellyn," he whispered at last, "I beg thy pardon
heartily, for having been so rude to thee. But it is such a
business to hush the young lady; and if she once wakes she
talks all the night long. I fear that her mind is almost too
active for a maid of her tender years."</p>
<p>"What young lady do you mean?" I asked; "is Bunny become
a young lady now?"</p>
<p>"Bunny!" he cried, with no small contempt; then perceiving
how rude this was to me, began casting about for
apologies.</p>
<p>"Never mind that," I said; "only tell me who this wonderful
young lady is."</p>
<p>"Miss Andalusia, the 'Maid of Sker,' as every one now
begins to call her. There is no other young lady in the neighbourhood
to my knowledge."</p>
<p>"Nor in the whole world for you, I should say, by the look
of your eyes, Master Roger Berkrolles. Nevertheless put
your coat on, my friend, and give your old landlord a bit to
eat. I trow that the whole of my house does not belong even
to Miss Delushy. Have I not even a granddaughter?"</p>
<p>"To be sure, and a very fine damsel she is, ay, and a good
and comely one; though she hath no turn for erudition. What
we should do without Bunny I know not. She is a most rare
young housewife."</p>
<p>The tears sprang into my eyes at this, as I thought of her
poor grandmother, and I gave Master Berkrolles' hand a squeeze
which brought some into his as well.</p>
<p>"Let me see her," was all I said; "it is not easy to break
her rest, unless she is greatly altered."</p>
<p>"She is not in bed; she is singing her young friend to
sleep. I will call her presently."</p>
<p>This was rather more, however, than even my patience could
endure: so I went quietly up the stairs, and pushing the door
of the best room gently, there I heard a pretty voice, and saw
a very pretty sight. In a little bed which seemed almost to
shine with cleanliness, there lay a young girl fast asleep, but
lying in such a way that none who had ever seen could doubt
of her. That is to say, with one knee up, and the foot of the
other leg thrown back, and showing through the bed-clothes,
as if she were running a race in sleep. And yet with the back
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_340">[Pg 340]</SPAN></span>
laid flat, and sinking into the pillow deeply; while a pair of
little restless arms came out and strayed on the coverlet. Her
full and lively red lips were parted, as if she wanted to have
a snore, also her little nose well up, and the rounding of the
tender cheeks untrimmed to the maiden oval. Down upon
these dark lashes hung, fluttering with the pulse of sleep; while
heavy clusters of curly hair, dishevelled upon the pillow,
framed the gentle curve of the forehead and smiling daintiness
of the whole.</p>
<p>Near this delicate creature sate, in a bending attitude of
protection, a strong and well-made girl, with black hair, jet-black
eyes, and a rosy colour spread upon a round plump face.
She was smiling as she watched the effect of an old Welsh air
which she had been singing—"Ar hyd y nos." To look at
her size and figure, you would say that her age was fourteen at
least; but I knew that she was but twelve years old, as she
happened to be our Bunny.</p>
<p>You may suppose that this child was amazed to see her old
Granny again once more, and hardly able to recognise him,
except by his voice, and eyes, and manner, and a sort of way
about him such as only relations have. For really, if I must
tell the truth, the great roundness of the world had taken such
a strong effect upon me, that I had not been able to manage
one straight line towards Newton Nottage for something over
six years now. Perhaps I have said that the Admiralty did
not encourage our correspondence; and most of us were very
well content to allow our dear friends to think of us. So that
by my pay alone could my native parish argue whether I were
alive or dead.</p>
<p class="pmb3">It would not become me to enter into the public rejoicing
upon the morrow, after my well-accustomed face was proved
to be genuine at the "Jolly." There are moments that pass
our very clearest perception, and judgment, and even our
strength to go through them again. And it was too early yet—except
for a man from low latitudes—to call for rum-and-water.
The whole of this I let them know, while capable of
receiving it.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_341">[Pg 341]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />