# Joan, The Curate/Chapter 11

It was impossible for Tregenna to see the face of the man who had seized him by the leg; for his own body was thrust through the hole between the boards which filled up the great east window.
He kicked out, however, with all his might; and after a silent struggle of a few moments' duration, he managed to get rid of his assailant: and the next minute he heard him drop with a thud to the ground.
Tregenna saw on the left the smoldering torch of one of the men who had been at work inside the barn: he dared not, therefore, get down and cross the farmyard. Having withdrawn his shoulders from the hold in which he had wedged himself, he saw that the roof of the nearest outhouse was only some four feet away. He contrived, by a risky spring, ​to reach the thatch; and then it was easy to cross by the roofs of the outhouses to an open window of the farmhouse, through which he peeped.
It was dark outside, with the rain-clouds and the falling drizzle; it was pitch dark within, so that he could not even tell whether the window opened from a room or a passage. He listened; but at first there was nothing to be heard but the wind among the tree-tops on the hill above, and the sound of the tread of footsteps in the soft straw of the farmyard.
Presently there was a stifled laugh, a murmur of rough voices, and then the tramp of horses' hoofs coming nearer and nearer along the road. Then there was a low whistle, which was answered by a voice close to where he stood under the window.
The men from the barn had gone out to meet their comrades returning from the raid.
On an instant the place seemed to be alive with unseen creatures, whispering, laughing, singing softly. Sheltered from observation from below, for the present at least, Tregenna crouched down in the thatch, and wondered how long he would be safe from his late assail​ant. The next moment he saw a head appear above the eaves of one of the outhouses.
There was only one thing to be done, and he did it. Springing erect, he clutched at the sill of the open window, drew himself up to it, got inside, and closed it fast. Just as he secured the latch he saw, dimly indeed, but unmistakably, the figure of a rough-looking countryman on the roof outside. The closed window, however, baffled the fellow, for he went on crawling about over the thatch without any suspicion of the way by which his prey had escaped him.
Tregenna fancied, as he watched from behind the security of the latticed window, that he recognized in the fellow a rough-looking lad whom he had seen at work in the Parsonage garden.
The question now was, having got safely into the house, to get safely out again.
He groped about him, found the opposite wall at a distance of some five or six feet, and soon discovered that he was in a corridor, running along the back wall of the house. Following it, he came to a corner, where the corridor, now cutting through the house to the ​front, with rooms on each side, led to a wide staircase with a handsome carved oak railing.
Here, however, he came to a standstill, not daring to go down. For the hall below led straight into the farmhouse kitchen, and there was no door.
Tregenna caught sight of a couple of men who were busy rolling spirit-kegs into a corner of the great room; and he was prone on the floor on the instant, watching and listening. But though he heard plenty of noise, the entrance of the smugglers fresh from the raid, the greetings of their comrades from the Gray Barn, the rolling of barrels across the rough tiled floor, he saw no more. The outer door was out of his sight, and so was the fireplace; and it was between door and fireplace that the movement of the company lay.
When he became sure of this fact, he stole softly down the staircase, which was entirely unlighted, and concealed himself behind the bend in the massive oak railing at the bottom. By this time the noise of tongues, of tramping feet, of the bringing in of heavy wares, had become so loud that he was not afraid of his footsteps on the bare boards being heard.
​As he stepped down upon the stone flags of the hall, the wavering light from the flaring torches in the kitchen fell upon what was now the front-door of the house; he took a step towards it, thinking that he might escape by this way. But it was fastened by a heavy padlock, so that egress in this direction was impossible.
There was nothing to be done but to remain in concealment, and to hope for a chance of escape when the occupants of the house should have dispersed and gone to rest.
For the present he was safe; and although he dared not advance far enough to see what was going on, his ears kept him pretty well informed of the course affairs were taking.
In the first place, he recognized among the newcomers three voices: those of Ben the Blast, of Long Jack, and of Ann Price, who, as he judged by the words she uttered and those addressed to her, must have been herself with the raiders that night. They were jubilant over the skill with which they had evaded the king's men, who, it seemed, had not had a chance of coming up with them.
''Twas all owing to the luck of the capt'n's ​being away!" said Ann's voice, in a decisive tone. "That fellow's the hardest nut we have to crack. The soldiers don't count!" she added contemptuously.
"Ay, but the question is, where was the capt'n, damn 'un!" retorted Ben the Blast, ferociously. "If so be you say you invited him hither, maybe he's on's way now, and that's how we missed 'un. Hey, Robin, have you seen any strangers about?"
Robin answered first with a characteristic curse.
"If so be as I had seen him," said he savagely, "there'd be naught for to trouble your head about him no more!"
"Maybe, he's gone up to the Parsonage!" suggested Tom, who had entered the kitchen from the porch during Ben's speech. "Folk's say he allus has an eye to the Parsonage when he goes by, spying to see if Mistress Joan's about."
"He'll get no good by doing that!" cried Ann, sharply. "Miss Joan'll never tell aught to harm us, for my mother's sake; 'twas she came herself to tell us, t'other day, that the red-coats were on their way hither."
​"Ay," said Tom, "but 'tis not for information 'gainst us the lieutenant hangs about the Parsonage. 'Tis for Miss Joan's bright eyes, I'm thinking."
"Pshaw!" said Ann, contemptuously.
"She's a handsome, winsome lady," went on Tom, "and all the gentlemen be raving mad about her shape and her fine eyes. So 'tis no such wonder if he's struck, too."
"Miss Joan's well enough," returned Ann, though in a rather grudging tone; "but I think the lieutenant's got something better to do than run after a lass just now. Leastways, if he hasn't, we can find him something!" she added with acerbity.
"Ho, ho, ho! That can we!" roared Ben the Blast, laughing lustily.
In the midst of his mirth, in which the other men joined, there was an interruption. Some one ran in panting, and apparently in sufficient disorder to warrant a feeling of alarm among the rest.
"Well, how now, Bill? What has frighted thee?" said Robin Cursemother; and his companions added their questions to the panting newcomer.
​At last, when there was a pause, he blurted out—
"There's spies about, mates; there's eyes been a-watching us while we was at our work in the barn to-night!" Instantly there was a confusion of tongues, so great that for a few moments he was allowed to get breath, while his companions pressed round him, with oaths and abrupt questionings. When he was able to go on, he said, "'Twas a lad from the village yonder as told me, young Will Bramley, that lives down by the mash'es, and works up at Parsonage."
"Well!"
"Well, Oi caught 'un as he were a getting off the roof of the little shippen, and he got away, runnin' as hard as he could towards the village yonder. But Oi come oop with him, and Oi says, says Oi, 'What be tha doing of?' says Oi. 'Tha've been spying,' says Oi. Then says he: ''Tain't Oi as have been spying, Bill Plunder,' says he. And he told as how 'twere Miss Joan Langney as had sent him for to see if there was spies about the barn, and as how he'd caught hold of a man's leg that was a looking through the slit in the big barn winder to-night."
​As Bill Plunder uttered these words, a storm of curses and oaths burst from the listening smugglers. There was a movement, a stamping of feet, a rattling of weapons. And Tregenna, brave man though he was, felt the blood run cold in his veins, as he thought of the fate which would be his if he should fall into their hands that night.
"'Twas the lieutenant, for sure! Curses on him!" cried Ben the Blast, bringing his heavy heel down sharply on the tiled floor as he spoke. "And whither did he go? Answer that! Whither, I say, whither?"
"That the lad didn't know no more'n you do. He said as how he caught hold of the leg of the fellow that was spying, and as how he was flung off and down to the ground. And as how he looked and looked, and searched and hunted, but couldn't get not so much as a sight of him no more. And as how he dursn't call to any of us, for fear as he should be caught for a spy hisself. That's the lad's tale, and Oi believe it's the truth, for 'od's fish, Oi made him tremble in's shoes."
"Why didst not bring him hither?" asked Robin, shortly. "We'd have knocked the ​truth out of's maw, I'll warrant! Which way did he go, blockhead?"
"'Tis no matter for the boy!" cried Ben, in a voice of thunder. "'Tis for the man we must be looking! Do you, mates, search the yard and the shippens, while Ann and me'll do the bit of road, and the bushes in front yonder!"
"He'll be gotten clear away by this," grumbled Gardener Tom.
"Not he. 'Tis for spying he's come, and he'd not go back so soon, and with all of us about, too. Nay, he'll be on the premises still, somewheres, and, odds my life, we'll make short work of him when we find him. We'll tie him on the brown mare, and whip him till he swoons, and then we'll put his body down the Monks' Well that lies t'other side of the hill yonder."
Then the shrill, thin whining voice of Long Jack broke in upon the thunder of the others. Almost sobbing, and speaking in accents of real terror, he said, thickly, and with uncertain intonation—
"How now, mates, how now? Best leave well alone. Besht leave well alone, Oi say, and ​may Heaven Almoighty pardon us what we've done this noight! It's ill work is murder, and it'll be murder if you come against him this noight."
Ben the Blast gave a contemptuous grunt. "Ugh!" cried he, surlily; "drop that sniveling, Jack! Thou are loike to a wolf with a knife in thy hand and thy blood up: but no sooner art thou cold again, than thy tears flow as fast as thy liquor. Get thee to bed, mate, so thou doesn't loike the sound of our singing, nor of the tune we shall sing to."
But Long Jack, still sighing and moaning, got up and staggered down the room. Tregenna, with his heart in his mouth, saw him lurch towards the hall where he was in hiding. But Long Jack, who was unsteady on his legs, had but taken a few steps out of his right course, Bill Plunder ran after him, and fetched him back; and the tall, lean, miserable-looking rascal and his small ferret-faced companion went again out of sight together.
They all trooped out quickly, leaving, as Tregenna knew by the lull, only Ben the Blast and Ann in the kitchen. They had taken some of the torches with them, too; for ​the light had become very dim, even on the whitewashed lower walls; while the great timbered roof overhead was now in pitchy blackness.
There was a silence when Ben and Ann were alone together, after he had gone to the door and slammed it. Then she began to hum softly to herself.
"What art a-singing for?" asked Ben, gruffly.
"To keep up my spirits maybe," returned she, saucily.
"Thou didst not need for to keep up thy spirits till latterly; they was allus up," said Ben. "What's come to thee these last days? Is't since what happened t'other day that thou'rt so down in the mouth? Is't that thou wouldst like to be even with them that's done thee so ill a turn—eh, lass?"
"Ay, that would I," answered Ann, savagely. "I do thirst to pay back as good as I've been given. I'm none of your soft ones, as you know, Ben."
"Odso, Oi don't know it? It's why Oi loike thee, Ann. Give me a lass, says Oi, as can deal you a blow with her fist if she's a mind, loike ​as you did t'other day, when Oi did but ask for a smack of the lips. The day yon cursed lieutenant tried to come atween us, you mind, Ann?"
"Ay, I remember," said Ann, who, with native intelligence, spoke much better than did any of her companions, and, indeed, nearly as well as the country gentlefolk. "I played the poor lad a neat trick, and left him to get back through the mud of the lanes as best he could."
"Serve him roight, too!" retorted Ben, roughly. "Oi should be main sorry to think you had any sneaking loiking for a king's man, Ann; a lass of spirit loike you!"
"I've no liking for anybody," said Ann, impatiently; "but my own kin and my own kind. Liking, indeed! What dost take me for, to speak as if I'd aught of a feeling of kindness for the young rascal that's done more harm to us in a month than the rest of the king's men have in half a year!"
"That's roight, lass; spoke with spirit. Spoke loike my cousin, my good cousin, that's to be my woife!"
"Time enough for talk of that, Ben, when ​we get the coast clear of the cutter's men and the red-coats!" said Ann, shortly. "And now, let's to our work; 'tis for us to search the road for this young spark. 'Tis but a matter of form, though; for he'll be back to his ship long ere this!"
"You think so?"
"I'm sure on't."
"Still, you'll have a hunt for him?"
"Ay, and if I find him, I pray Heaven I may find him alone. I should like to settle accounts with him—by myself—dearly, dearly!"
She spoke between her clenched teeth. And Ben laughed.
"Roight, Ann," said he. "Oi'll hand him over if he comes my way. O'dsfish; Oi'd never wish a man worse than to come your way while you be in that humor!"
"I always have a mind to pay my own scores myself," said Ann, viciously. "So do you, Ben. Take to the right, down towards the bridge, whilst I search in the bushes in front, yonder. There's many a hiding-place there the fellow might have chosen, if 'tis true that he's still on the watch."
"Oons, Oi'll not thwart thee. So here's for ​the bridge. Thou'lt not give me a kiss before Oi go—eh, lass?"
"Dost think I'm in the mood for kissing?" retorted Ann, sharply.
And it was abundantly clear that she got rid of her too obtrusive admirer with the physical violence he professed to admire so much; for Tregenna heard a sort of scuffling going on, and then Ben's tread and his voice were heard no more; but the door was opened, letting in a rush of cold air, and then slammed with great force.
Ann did not at once follow her admirer to take up her own allotted share in the search for the spy. Tregenna heard her somewhat heavy tread in the great kitchen, as if she were slowly pacing up and down at the end of the room near the fireplace.
Should he disclose himself to her, to this enigmatical woman with the calm manner and the fierce heart? Or should he wait and watch the course of events, hoping for a chance of escape?
As he put this question to himself, he heard a door open in the corridor above, and saw the glimmer of a rushlight reflected on the ceiling. ​The old woman who had received him and the brigadier on their previous visit to the farm had come out into the corridor and was moving slowly towards the back of the house. In a few moments she returned with a much quicker step, and coming to the head of the staircase, called, in an anxious whisper—
"Ann!"
From the kitchen, at that moment, there came the sound of the flinging down of something heavy, with a noise that echoed in the old rafters above.
"Ann!" repeated the old woman more shrilly.
Ann's voice had a muffled sound, as she answered, as if she were speaking from a great distance—
"Hey, mother, is't you?"
"Ay, lass. There's summat wrong. I minded a while ago to have left the passage window open, with the rain coming in. And now I find it shut, and marks of a man's tread on the floor here!"
Ann's answer rang out sharp and clear—
"Right, mother. I'll see to't! Go you back to bed!"
​The old woman lingered but for one instant, turning to the right and to the left the iron stand which held her rushlight. Naturally the feeble light showed her very little. The prints of muddy boots were continued down the stairs, but she did not care to trace them out, feeling, probably, that such investigations might safely be left to the energetic Ann.
With a grunt and a muttered grumble she retreated into her own room, and Tregenna heard her draw the bolt on the inner side of the door.
He heard the click of a pistol which, as he imagined, the intrepid Ann was trying. But he felt that the moment for decisive action had come. He would not be discovered hiding behind the staircase like a thief.
Coming out of his corner, therefore, he went into the big kitchen, to present himself to the redoubtable Ann.
The great hall looked a weird place, with the flickering of the log-fire and the glimmer of a dying torch for all illumination. Round about the wide hearth were piled bales of goods and kegs of spirits, while the table groaned under a weight of jugs and tankards, joints of ​beef, and long, flat home-made loaves, generous preparation for the smugglers' supper.
In front of the hearth and between the two wide oak settles there was a gaping chasm, a hole in the floor of which Tregenna was not long in guessing the meaning. The heavy wooden lid, by day artfully concealed by a piece of rough matting, apparently placed there for the comfort of the old people who sat on each side, was now thrown back; and it was by this lid that the solitary occupant of the huge apartment was now standing.
Although he was in part prepared for the discovery, Tregenna gave a slight start on finding himself face to face with this being.
For he saw before him not Ann Price the decent farmer's daughter, with her neat cap and snow-white apron, her calm face and quiet manners; but Jem Bax, the young smuggler, with the rough shock of shoulder-length hair, the seamen's breeches, and high boots, the loose shirt, open jacket, and flowing tie, with the pale set face, and fierce devil-may-care expression.
And even now that he knew them to be one and the same person, he could hardly be sur​prised that he had not guessed the truth before. For, as there had seemed to be nothing masculine about Ann in her skirts and cap: so now in Jem Bax, in coat and breeches, he could see no trace of the woman.