# Galloping Dick/Chapter 2

Of the Man from Cornwall, with an account of what fell in Bristol Castle.
Chapter II
Of the Man from Cornwall, with an account of what fell in Bristol Castle.
Now, my encounter with Sir Ralph Leybourne, which was the original of certain curious sequels, fell in this wise. I had danced a pretty lively sort of jig across country, and was now posting for the West, several shires, indeed, being at that time too warm for my toes. It was then my usage, as it has ever been, upon such alarms to settle in a private retirement, and hear the wind blow over my head; whether ’twas with Polly Scarlett in the Ratcliff Highway, or may be in a snug corner with some other Mrs Bitchington. But of all these give me Polly for my taste. And now that the traps were out in town, and I was pictured thick in many a Hue and Cry, I was, for the nonce, in pursuance of this policy, ​for a cheerful seclusion in the distance. So it happened that at eight of the clock on that fifth of June I set out from Sutton Valence, astride upon Calypso, and by midday drew up at a little village, a league or so t’other side of Bath. Here was a tolerable ale-house with a large bare room; and me and a red-haired stranger to fill it of ourselves.
If there be one character next to the habit of a prompt arm that best serves our profession, ’tis surely the property of a sharp observation, and so it was upon my companion that my eyes fell now with particular attention. He was a huge, lean-faced man, with tall, rough bones to his cheeks, and a pair of hard, cross-cut eyes—ugly to look on, but something superior in air, and of a certain interest to denote. Nor was his aspect pleasanter than his face, for he wore a nasty scowling look, and had the appearance of a fellow that would leap down your mouth ere you opened it. Now this was the man for my money. He challenged me, and for the love of God I could not put a name upon his business; which, as you may suppose, set me off in a twinkling.
​I laid down my knife, took a draught of wine, and “Sir,” says I, observing him in a friendly way, “for a townsman, as I should interpret you, you show a lively appetite.” For there was he filling his belly with the meats in a greedy, hasty fashion, and never so much as a glance at me, or a civil by-your-leave.
At that he turned sharply, stared at me for an instant with a scowl, and then seeming very lumpish, “No better than your own,” says he in a surly voice.
“Why, for myself,” says I pleasantly, “I make no boast of an old maid’s appetite. I can use a knife and platter with my fellows. But there is appetite,” said I with emphasis, “and there is a ranting, roaring belly; and the one I should think shame of, save under sore needs.”
“You are scarce civil,” says he, with a sour face on him, and shortly, as one who would be at no trouble to pick up a quarrel or pass a pat rejoinder. But I was in no humour to be thus put down.
“Why, then,” said I, “to be civil is to sit ​stark before your meats, gulping like a hog, and for two gentlemen to lower across the table upon one another. If that be civility,” says I, “damn your civility,” I says.
The fellow went on with his meal without even the compliment of a word, at which I was somewhat nettled; but seeing I was embarked upon the sally, Dick Ryder was not the man to cry quits with an ugly-visaged, cross-grained, country-bred oaf. And it struck me, too, at the moment that the cully might be one of my own calling, and in much the same plight as myself; for ’tis notorious that some of our trade are surly rascals enough, with no more manners than a jackal.
“If it be,” I resumed tartly, “that a pair of good eyes and a leash of sound legs and arms would be the better wanting in your company, then I take you,” says I, “and, faith, I am in the heart to tolerate your reputable dudgeon. But I would have you to learn, my friend, that suspicion breeds suspicion, and that he is a fool who would not dare to carry off his case with a firm, high hand.”
​“What do you mean?” he asks, in a startled voice.
“I am no head at a guess,” says I, sticking my finger at the thick, red soils upon his boots, "but I swear I can pin a point upon honest Quantock mud.”
I vow I never saw a man’s face flame to such a sudden passion. His colour blew as strong as his hair, and he clapped his hand to his sword, muttering very angrily and with a suggestion of terror.
I laughed, and poured out a glass from the bottle. “Mark me,” said I, with good humour, “’twas of honest Chiantock loam I spoke. And ’tween you and me I’ll warrant we are acquainted with the discrimination.”
“I am come,” says he sulkily, “from Worcester.”
“And sure,” says I, smiling, “that will serve very well to explain a monstrous appetite; and the rather that the road is poor, and the topsman hath a heavy hand.”
Now he looked at me, as I saw, in some perplexity, and with an ingenuous frown of ​wonder; and with that I knew that I was taken up with a wrong notion, and I drew up mighty sudden, as you may fancy. Presently his eyes fell, and with an indifferent lift of his shoulders he resumed his guttling. It tickled me so to see his unhandsome gestures and his lumpish manner at table that, though I was ruffled by my rebuff and was casting about for some new gate, I could not refrain from laughter. I dropped my glass and chuckled forthright. At which he started again.
“What the Devil——?” says he savagely. “Gad’s my life, may a gentleman not pass his meal in peace, but you must bawl him out of comfort?”
“Rot me,” says I, opening my eyes, and with some choler. “Here’s a pretty piece of insolence. And may a gentleman not hug a jest with himself, but must go forth, forsooth, and split himself among the dogs? Stab me,” says I, “my young gentleman, you will neither be merry with me, nor suffer me to be merry alone.”
He stared at me, as though about to retort upon me, but apparently thinking better of his ​course. “I beg your pardon,” said he, but too bluntly for courtesy. “I was mistook.”
“Why, come now,” says I amiably, “you make amends like a man of honour, and I will do myself the favour of asking you to a glass with me.”
An expression of annoyance beset his features, but he durst not well decline me, and, indeed, I was in no spirit for refusal. I shifted up my chair within reach, and we jingled our glasses.
“A pint of warm wine,” said I genially, “is the finest specific for an empty stomach these mild days.”
Considering that he was then three-parts through a capon, with pasties to boot, here was a pretty point enough, but he took no notice of the sally.
“True,” he answered, briefly. And finding him thus so much disposed to conversation I pushed back my chair, and, lolling in it, surveyed him with a friendly care. I was now less than ever at the knowledge of his calling, but I was to make a smart push for it.
​“Goods,” says I, smiling broadly, and with an air of intelligence, “are sunk most dismal low this season.”
“Ah!” says he, vacantly.
“Why,” I went on, seeing he kept his tongue, “there was a dozen pieces of holland sold in London last week, and that of the finest, at no more than four shillings the ell.”
“Ah!” says he again, and adds, “Indeed!” indifferently.
“You may well say that,” says I, “but ’tis a fact of my own knowledge. Broadcloth, silk drugget, and brocades—’sbud, I know not which lies in the worse case in the markets. Now, in your own experience,” says I, “what price have you put upon——”
“Why, man,” says he, interrupting me sharply, “what the Devil! Do you take me for a——” and there he stopped mighty quick. “O well,” says he in another voice, “yes, yes, I find ’em one as bad as another,” he says.
“And black Colchester bays?” says I.
“Ah, yes, yes, that too,” says he, nodding: “Colchester bays, too.”
​I could scarce hold from laughing at the droll creature, as he sat waggling his head sagely upon terms he had never so much as heard, and casting restless shots out of his cross-eyes upon me. But I sat grave enough, and looking to him of a sudden.
“But you,” says I, in a tone of inquiry, “will be no snip, I’ll dare swear?”
“Damme, no!” says he, flushing in a moment, and then adds hurriedly, “Well, no—not a snip—no, not quite, that is,” and fell to frowning uncomfortably.
“No,” said I cheerfully, “I took your measure when I first set eyes on you. But your sword—’twas that put me off in the start. But now,” I says, laughing, “I understand how you come by that.”
“Oh, yes, now, of course,” he replied, echoing me a bewildered laugh of his own.
“Does it pay you well?” I asked.
“Pay?” he said, stupidly. “O well,” says he, “tolerably, tolerably.”
“I’ve had half a mind to it myself,” said I, meditatively. “In these hard times a man may ​do very much worse.” He nodded. “And with good honest fare,” says I, “and the price of a flask now and then.” He nodded again, frowning more than ever. “And on a particular private service, a guinea from one’s master.” He drew up his red head, staring at me haughtily. “Specially,” I went on, “for a secret service to carry letters——”
To say the truth I had wellnigh forgot the premier business of my adventure; so tickled was I to put this egregious fellow upon prickles. But at my last words, and ere the full sentence was off my lips, he turned of a sudden deathly pale, stuck his hand again to his sword, and took a fit of shivers.
“Damnation!” he cried, all in a blaze of fury.
He squinted abominably as his eyes racked me, and one hand crept in a tremor to the cuff of his jacket. Now, I am a man of speedy wits, as indeed ’tis needful in my trade, and in a flash I was aware that I had come upon some more desperate affair than I had imagined. Moreover, the real meaning of his appearance ​there, I know not how, ran suddenly in my head. But I was my own master, in despite of this; and though, for sure, I felt like whistling, instead, keeping a very demure face, and answering his look with mere surprise, I said: “What is it?” said I. “You ha’nt been robbed?”
He glared at me speechless half-risen in his seat, and occupied in gulping his emotion.
“Faith!” I said, with a grin, “an’ you present the lady with the letter in a face like that, I’ll warrant you, she shall have a fit, and you a beating from your master.”
He gave vent to a snort of relief, as it seemed, and fell back in his chair, pretty limp. “Ha’ some more wine,” says I, cheerfully. He gulped down a draught, and the colour ran into his cheeks again. He even looked at me with a sickly grin.
“I feared,” said he, “I had forgot the billet-doux."
“Ha, ha!” says I in a manner of raillery, “sink me! but you’re a fine rascal for a love-sick gentleman. And I’ll swear, too, ’tis no less ​than an assignation.” He nodded, with a miserable kind of wink, and bobbed his nose into the wine, seeming very much pleased with himself. But now I was gotten very big with the notion I had in my head and looked to put it to the test. Indeed, I miscalled myself a fool in that the idea had not taken me earlier, with all those stirring rumours from the South, where that silly cully of a Monmouth, was setting the country-side by the ears. The splashes upon my neighbour’s feet and legs lay as thick as a Devon brogue might ha’ laid on his tongue, and I could almost swear to every mile since he had ridden forth of Tiverton. And with that the shape of my new behaviour came to me boldly.
“Look’ee,” says I, speaking earnestly. “Across the main length of this table when I first crossed my legs under it, I liked the fancy of you; and though ’twas in a fashion of snarling you showed your teeth at me, why I mind you none the worse for a fire-eater.”
“Go on,” said he, regarding me with wonder.
“Come, then,” I went on. “You’re too good a lad for this fetching and carrying. Your ​sword brags too loudly for the business. There’s a cut about your face that derides you at it; and your hair is not the colour of a lackey’s periwig. If I was you,” says I, “sink me, but I’d set up myself for a gentleman of fortune.”
“What would you have me do? Where should I turn for a living?” he asked, looking amused.
“You talk of living,” says I with a wink. “But, mark’ee, young fellow, there’s also dying. And a man may die with his sword in his fist—the faster the better.”
“Well?” he says, grinning.
I bent over, and tapping him on the shoulder, said, very mysteriously, “Come with me,” says I. He lifted his brows, interrogating me. “Oh yes,” says I, “but there’s many a good man is like to follow where I am for.”
“Where is that?” says he.
“Why,” says I in a whisper, “to the side of King James III,” says I, “by the grace of God, King of England and Scotland and Lord of Ireland.”
​I felt him give a sudden start under my hand, but, taking no notice, I winked at him and nodded.
“Oh!” he cries, looking close at me, and speaking in a lower voice, “so you’re for the Prince, are you?”
“Hush!” says I, looking about me. “This ground is not safe.”
He followed my looks with a little display of timidity, and then returned to the contemplation of myself. He inspected me narrowly, and afterwards dropped his eyes, shrugging his shoulders.
“I am no hand with a sword,” said he.
I was no longer in any doubts. He was certainly from the seat of the insurrection, and as like as not with important papers. Indeed, his whole bearing was of a man that feared to be taken. But I pressed him a little closer.
“Ah!” I cried, feigning to rally him. “But I can see you have used a gully upon requirement. Think on it. I’ll vow to further you. An’ his Sacred Majesty had ten such swords as mine he would be in no needs of whistling for more, and ​James of York were best-a-sporting with his newest doxy.”
Now, I will acknowledge ’twas my own default, for I had put myself all along upon his own level as a gentleman’s footboy; and he, poor man, must perforce take me at my own reckoning. But when he broke out into his harsh satirical laughter, it made me mad.
“Oh, his new Majesty is in luck,” says he laughing, “with a sword such as yours at his call. And as for James Stuart——” Here he fell a-laughing in a loud rasping country fashion that was ill for me to bear.
My temper is of the quickest, and, whoever he might be, I was not for suffering the insolence of a dung-fork like him.
“Faith, then,” said I, starting red, “since you show such an appreciation of my sword, ’tis at your service.”
“Pish, man,” said he, still laughing, “sit down.”
But I was fair boiling now, and the thought that he could thus entreat me with such good-humoured indifference out of a belief that I was ​the poor huckster I had made myself out, made me the more resolute to show my mettle. I rapped my sword out sharply.
“You are pleased, sir,” said I, fiery-red, “to laugh at me.”
“Why,” says he, with the first twinkle in his eyes that I had seen, “and may not a gentleman hug a jest to himself, but must rather go forth among the dogs for his laughter?”
I was a little staggered at his ready use of my own rebuke, but I was equal to him in a moment.
“True,” I says, “your jest is your own, poor though it be. Laugh an’ you will. But damn me,” says I, “you shall not squint at me.”
At that he turned scarlet himself, and scowling at me, “You're an impudent rogue,” says he.
“Draw,” says I, and made at him.
He whipped out his iron, and was putting it up with a black expression on his phiz, when all of a sudden a noise of voices and stamping in the passage interfered between us. His ​weapon dropped, as indeed did mine also. He stared at the door fearfully, and next at me. Nor was I myself very comfortable, for, as you are aware, I was then in particular demand at half-a-dozen Assizes.
“What is this?” he asked, speaking very low.
“Why,” says I, with a sort of laugh, “it seems someone has come with a billet-doux for one of us.”
He took a sudden rush at the window, but on that instant the door was flung open and a packet of soldiers broke into the room. My companion turned, sword in hand, and so again did I, not knowing what colour affairs were taking. But of me they took no heed, for it seems that they had full notice of their man, and had indeed been on his heels a matter of two days. And so, while we two stood in great disconcert and irresolution, a young man, somewhere near my own height, and of a very lively cast of face, stepped out of the troop, sword in hand, and confronted the man from Cornwall.
​“Mr Baverstock,” says he, with a bow, and bringing his hat to his knees, “I regret that you must consider yourself my prisoner.”
The chamber sounded with the clank of spurs, and the doorway filled with dragoons; but my man was as game as a bantam, or rather as a bubbly-jock, for he was now the colour of his hair all over.
“Prisoner be damned,” he cried with a sneer, and ran upon the other without more ado.
But the Captain, for so I understood him, took a step back and made play with his point. He stood as cool as a fencing-master, and was more than the match of my squinting friend, who, for all that he made a smart show, being far gone in passion, soon concluded the affair on his own account. Presently I saw the soldier’s rapier bend and glimmer; there was a jerk and a twitch, and Master Red-Head’s toasting-fork was flying in the air above my head. In a second the privates moved up, and had their prisoner in hand. The thing fell with such dispatch that I could not but admire the ease of its process, but ’twas as much the spunk of the ​man Baverstock as the skill and nicety of his opponent that took my fancy; and “Bravo!” I cried, “bravo!”
Thereupon the Captain turned, and seeming to observe me for the first time, looked me up and down, and ended with a good-humoured grin in my face.
“And who the Devil may you be?” says he, smiling.
“Rot me, Captain,” says I, “as to that, think of me merely as one that lacks the occasion to try swords with you.”
“As to that,” he replied, observing me closer and with more interest, “maybe we shall better the chance in good time.”
“Why, yes,” says I, on an impulse I could not withstand, for the man drew me so. “And here’s to the opportunity.”
And with that I filled a glass, and pushing it at him lifted my own to my lips. He eyed me askew, in a fascinating way he had, from under his bent brows, and then burst into laughter.
“And here, my good sir, is to the opportunity,” he said.
​This took me right in the stomach for fellowship. “And ’fore gad,” says I a little roughly, “we’ll break a bottle on it.”
He tossed off his wine. “And ’fore gad, sir,” says he gaily, “we will.”
And thus it was that I became acquainted with Sir Ralph Leybourne. I called for the landlord, and Sir Ralph sat down, but then, seeming to recollect, turned to his prisoner, where he stood gloomily within a ring of the dragoons.
“Mr Baverstock,” says he, “I am no thief-taker, nor no spy-catcher neither, and if a gentleman of good west-country blood shall choose to set himself up a new sovereign, ’tis nothing against his gentility whatever it be to his oath. But an’ you will give me your word, you shall stay here, and,” here he swept a graceful bow towards me, “perhaps this gentleman will suffer me a guest and to order for us all.”
But Baverstock, if that was his name, merely gave him a savage look. “I will give no word,” said he.
​Sir Ralph shrugged his shoulders. “As you will,” he said in another voice; and then to his men, “You had better lay in a stock of food for yourselves, and see you hold your prisoner fast,” he says.
When they were gone he turned to me smiling, and, “It seems,” says he, “that in the hopes of cutting out each other’s hearts we must first grow friends over wine.”
“Why not?” said I stoutly. “I love a gallant sword, and a passage-at-arms is a sure passage to friendship.”
“In this case ’tis the bottle,” he objected.
“Bottle or blade,” said I, “I will find some way to your heart, Sir Ralph.”
He inquired of me with his eyes for a moment with a sort of indifferent good-humour. “Let us drink, at least,” said he, “I’ll warrant we will both make friends with the wine.”
I regarded him closely as we drank. He put back his head and swallowed the liquor at a gulp, winked at me, and then, noting some tangle in his lace, slowly combed it out with his long white fingers. He was much taken ​up with this same lace, stroking out his ruffles and preening himself with a fastidious taste. And then he seemed, at last, to remember me again, and looking at me showed his teeth.
“Another glass, eh?” he observed. I nodded, and we refilled our glasses.
But then again, after he had drunken, his attention wandered like the eyes of a light o’ love. He hummed a ribald snatch of song without more consideration of my presence than if I had been a boy, and his glance strayed about the room. But presently returning to himself and finding me staring at him, says he, in a very winning fashion, “Well,” says he, “do I find grace in your sight, O Lord?”
“Sir Ralph,” said I, “you warm my heart. You’re the man for me if there’s never another in the world. As for women, damn ’em,” I says.
At this he was pleased to go off into merriment, rapping his glass upon the table in applause, and, throwing back his handsome locks,
​“Why here is praise,” says this popinjay; “fie, fie,” and laughs immoderately. And then, “Why where is my manners,” he cries, “to have sat down to wine without a knowledge of my worthy host?”
“My name, Sir Ralph,” said I, “is Ryder, at your command, and I pursue the life of a gentleman of ease.”
“And a damned good calling,” he says heartily. “And I’ll swear you make an excellent living of it.”
I looked at him with a suspicious eye, for the turn of his words took me aback; but he regarded me very innocently. And “You are a friend, then,” he asked, “of my poor Baverstock, there?”
“Friend!” says I, “as much of a friend as to be drawing upon him on your interruption.”
“Why,” he says laughing, “a very proper sign of friendship—as we agreed.”
“I cannot abide sour looks,” I said.
“Aye,” said he, “he is of a fanatical design; and so, in sooth, are they all. I have never clapped eyes on His Gracious Majesty King ​James, but I am a good servant of his, and the King is the King, and there’s an end. While, as for his Grace of Monmouth, Mr Ryder, he is a fool who should think one should be born a bastard and begotten a king.”
“You speak my own sentiments,” said I.
He rose now, and sweeping off his hat, with his heels together, “Mr Ryder,” he said mockingly, but with no shadow of offence in his voice, “God or the Devil imposes an end to pleasant company, and we must now part—I to my service and you to your ease.”
“Until we meet,” I put in, and returning his bow with as much magnificence as himself.
“Ah!” he replied, “I have an uncommon bad memory. But you must jog it, Ryder, you must jog it.”
I accompanied him from the inn, and when we were got into the open, there was all his little company scattered under the huge elm before the doorway, and the man Baverstock set somewhat apart in the charge of two dragoons, looking very black and disconsolate. ​I had some pity for the fellow, for he was by no means white-livered, and drawing near, gave him a friendly sort of glance. He looked back at me startled, and with a sudden light in his eyes, and appeared to consider very deeply. Then, keeping a wary gaze upon his guards, edged off towards me as near as he dared. There was a commotion of chatter under the elm, and this proceeding went unnoticed. But it was something of a surprise to me, who at the moment had no guess of what the fellow wanted. But when he was come close enough, he spoke very hurriedly and in a low voice.
“Sir,” says he, “are you a true man? and are you, in truth, for Monmouth?”
“To the first, yes,” said I promptly, “and as to the second, why, after that, ’twill need no answer.”
He made, as though to search me right through with his squint. “I must e’en trust you,” he whispered. “See here, I am taken upon a journey of vast moment. But that’s no matter for myself, if it were not for what I carry. I have about me papers that must ​soon be dragged forth and paraded before James Stuart’s eyes. You——” He paused and looked at me very troubled.
I put out my hand, for the man’s courage was agreeable. “I will deliver them,” says I, “or burn them.”
For a moment more he wavered, and next, with a shifty glance behind him, “I must trust you,” he says desperately, and with a nervous action of his fingers began plucking at his long cuffs. But at that instant, and ere more could pass between us, Sir Ralph’s voice broke in like a pistol-shot.
“The Devil take you, Ryder,” said he angrily, “stand aback there, or you and I shall have to make of that little affair a matter of business rather than of diversion; and that mighty soon.”
Baverstock dropped his hands, aghast, being the next second in the clutch of the soldiers; while as for me, this smart command was hardly to my custom.
“The sooner the better, Sir Ralph,” said I, as sharp as himself. “And I have yet to ​learn that a gentleman may not have speech of a gentleman, wherever King James or King Monmouth may poke in his nose.”
“Indeed,” says he, “Captain Ryder, as you yourself should know, there are bounds to the liberty of the road.”
He had given me a title for the first time, and my renewed suspicion of his meaning, together with the malice of his answer, went direct to my marrow, and forthright I drew on him. But he shook his head, laughing again in his old temper.
“Not now, Captain,” says he, “but later, maybe, you will give me another chance.”
For all that my blood was hot, I was fain to admit he came off with the better grace; but he bore such an air with him that I put up my sword without a word, and watched him in a mixture of fury and admiration. The men were mounting in their saddles, and he now joined them. Never had I encountered with a man so much of my own kidney. We were as like in disposition and in quality as two oranges, and upon the High-Toby ​(to which he was a sore loss) he would have achieved an admirable practice. And yet I was like at that time to have disengaged myself from his life once and for all, had it not been for what followed immediately. The troop, being now in order, with Baverstock in the thick of it, was wheeling off upon the Bristol Road, Sir Ralph at the head, when, shifting in his saddle, he waved his sword to me merrily.
“To our next meeting, Captain,” he cried, “and prythee, an’ thou lovest me, let it fall soon, and upon a fine night and a good road.”
“Damn me,” I shouted, the blood singing of a sudden in my head, “but you shall find no quarrel with date, nor time, nor circumstances, or hang me for a cutpurse.”
I heard the sound of his laughter, as the horses took the corner; and it was there and then I got the resolution. I had no more liking for Baverstock than I should spend upon an attorney; save that he was a fellow of spirit. But I had acquired a strange fancy for Sir Ralph, and it maddened me that he ​should have thus put a mock upon me. Well, the enterprise was come upon my hands, and I was now for seeing the end, the more resolutely for his taunt. My wits are quick enough, and I had the true course of my policy ere you could hop out of a saddle. So it was that, after a moment’s reflection, I called for my reckoning, and, climbing Calypso, struck my spurs into her flank and made by the crossroads for Bristol. I reached the town, somewhere, as I guessed, within an hour of Sir Ralph’s company; but I was not precipitate for the surprise; I must needs leave a while for strategy; and so, putting my mare to her bed, I made my quarters at a little hostelry within the heart of the town. ’Twas not until the morrow, and near the stroke of six, that I set foot first within the precincts of the Castle. Colonel Biddulph was a bluff man by reputation, with an open affection for the bottle; but, whether or no he was in wine I know not. I confess he met me very roughly indeed. Upon hearing my business, though he was obviously well pleased with my informa​tion, he used me with such contumely that I was hard put to it to keep from his cravat. He cross-questioned me sharply, and when I stuck to my story, turning on his heels without further words, called one of his servants to bring Sir Ralph Leybourne. I smiled to myself to imagine his astonishment upon seeing me there in the Governor’s room and about this business, but indeed upon his entrance he disordered me with his first shot.
“Hullo!” cries he, quite gaily. “What, my pet knight-errant in this respectable company! Captain Ryder,” says he, shaking his finger at me, “ha’ you come for the bottle I owe you, that you figure thus boldly in the precincts of justice?”
“What, do you know this fellow?” says the Governor in an amaze.
Sir Ralph peers at me roguishly. “Well, sir,” said he, “if my eyes be still in my head, it should be a truculent gentleman whom I met yester morning at the Three Thorns out of Eckhurst.”
“Ah,” says the Governor. “Well you shall ​deal with him, as you know him. He is a rogue who is to do us the service of finding the dispatches upon Baverstock for a consideration. See him brought to the prisoner, and watch him carefully.”
At this, Sir Ralph seemed a good deal staggered, and a very different change came across his features.
“Hum!” said he, “’tis a dirty business, for which I have no stomach.”
The Governor motioned me to follow, which I did in silence, for though I was much mortified I held my temper pretty tight, being resolved to settle the account later, and to my own satisfaction. But Sir Ralph was of too cheerful and lively a nature to be long silent, and as we proceeded to the cells he could not refrain his tongue. It was: “Hark’ee, Ryder, and I take leave to say you’re a damned canting rascal,” and then in a high-pitched arrogant voice: “And keep a good yard to the fore, Ryder, lest I nose you for a stinkard;” with many other little jibes of the like colour. But all the time I kept my teeth together, and without ​ever a sign on my part we came at last to the dungeon in which Baverstock was cast. Flinging open the door, Sir Ralph bade me enter, and there I stood in the presence of the man I was to betray. He seemed surprised to see me, as he very well might be, but there was no time for looks, for Sir Ralph curtly ordered me to my job.
“Here’s a friend of yours, Mr Baverstock,” says he, “who has taken a sudden fancy for King James, and is come to show it on your own person. I am very sorry for you,” says he.
Baverstock regarded me at the first with wonder, and with growing suspicion, and then with a horrible glare of hate. He uttered an abominable oath, and turned to Sir Ralph, who stood looking out of the window.
“Sir Ralph,” he says, “you are at least a gentleman like myself. Is this the orders that I shall be subject to the familiar insults of a villainous footboy?”
“On the contrary,” said Sir Ralph drily, “I believe him to be a very accomplished highwayman.”
​“Sir Ralph,” says I sharply, for I would put up with this no longer, “an’ this business is to be done, it must be done in your presence. I shall be obliged, therefore, for your face.”
He whipped round quickly and shot an angry glance at me.
“Nay, my good scoundrel,” he said. “’Tis not a job to my stomach. A turnkey shall serve your turn.”
Thereupon he was stamping towards the door when I stopped him.
“Sir Ralph,” says I in another voice, “there’s need for you and me to finish this matter atween us. ’Tis true that the gentleman yonder has about him certain papers of value. I had it from himself. Moreover, ’tis certain also that I know where they are hid.”
Baverstock glared at me, and Sir Ralph bit his lip and frowned.
“Well?” he cried impatiently.
I laughed. “Turn the key i’ the lock, Sir Ralph,” says I, “for the opportunity of our quarrel is now come, and we must risk no interception.”
​He started, and opened his mouth, and then fell to whistling slowly, while a pleasant smile grew on his face.
“Why, damn me, Ryder,” says he, “what a strange rogue you are, for sure!” He paused, looking at me thoughtfully. “But this is madness, Ryder,” says he, presently.
“Come, come, Sir Ralph,” said I; “let me jog your memory.”
He was still staring at me, but seemed to wake up, and broke into a merry laugh. “What, you would make a rescue!” he cried.
“I would give you the occasion you have asked,” said I, bowing.
Again he paused, and at last, “By God! Ryder,” he cried, “cutpurse, canter, or gentleman of the road, you’re a man after my own heart.”
“Here’s a pair of us, then,” said I, smiling.
And, “In truth, I will not deny the company,” says he; “but,” he added, “I have a mind to spare you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Come,” he says, “I have already forgot ​this gentleman’s hiding-place. Is’t in his boots, eh? or perchance in his red hair? I vow I misremember, and yet I swear you did your business.”
For answer I drew my sword on him, but as yet he made no movement.”
“My poor Ryder,” he said, “know you not that, should I not finish you myself, there’s a score of stout fellows without the door?”
“Pooh!” said I. “And there’s a key to the door.”
Suddenly he turned, and stepping to the gate of that dungeon shot the bolt softly. “I wash my hands of you,” said he, drawing his own weapon at last. “But stay, we must not fight here, or the noise will reach the sentries.”
He seemed to consider, and then going to the further wall, took a key from the bunch he held, and turned it in the lock of a second door which was half-hid by the darkness.
“Here’s the room for our entertainment,” he said, and following on his heels I found myself of a sudden enveloped in the blackness of night.
“We may not fight here,” said I.
​“And why not?” he asked, laughing. “We shall meet then on level terms, for I would not take you at the disadvantage of my skill—thief though you be.”
“Damn you!” I cried angrily, “what is this gabble about thief? Come, put up your weapon, an’ you will fight in the dark.”
Now the chamber, as I have said, was of the thickness of a foul night, there being no entrance for the light, as I discovered afterwards, save by a little low window looking forth on a deep ditch, the which was now involved in the fall of evening: so that neither he nor I might discern between the shadows. I heard him try the point of his sword upon the stone floor, but by this, and the door being shut, I had lost all count of his direction; and then he called to me, his voice coming from the further end of the dungeon.
“Are you ready, Ryder?” he said.
I gave him the answer in a clear voice, that he might be at no disadvantage from ignorance of my position, and then moved openly into the centre of the chamber.
​“Your spurs clank,” says he. “You had best take ’em off, my friend.”
“An’ you hold not your tongue,” says I, “it will answer my spurs well enough.”
He laughed.
“Have at you,” says I, and made a thrust for the sound. But he must have broke away at the moment, for my point took nothing but empty air, and I was wellnigh my length upon the floor.
For himself, he made no noise, and a silence fell upon the dungeon, broken by little sounds and starts from everywhere, for the wind and the rain were playing without, and the human noises within, if there were any, I might not dissever from these signals of the storm. And so for a time there was no transaction upon the part of either. What he was at, I know not, nor indeed had I the least inkling of my own intention, save to watch and to listen in jealous circumspection for my own person. It was like no fight upon which I was ever engaged, and I did not favour the notion of it. For there was I on my side waiting in ​the horrid blackness, sword in my hand, eager for every sound amid the uproar of the elements, and expectant to be lanced through the groin any moment by the man, for whom I was so far from having any bitterness but I would gladly have shook hands with him there and then. You must conceive me, in this notable predicament, and regretting the job with all my heart, while I listened, straining like a cat at bay. And suddenly a brisker noise to my left set me spinning round, and I struck out fiercely. At the same moment our weapons clinked together, and the next instant his point was stinging in my arm. “Touched, Ryder, touched,” said he merrily; and at that, feeling the prick, and being now gotten to quarters, I fell sharply to the exchanges with a better stomach.
’Twas a Bedlam business, and I can mind the feel of it to this day. Our swords clinked and clashed, but according with no rules, owing to the remarkable blackness. At the first he whistled away, but by-and-bye, warming to the work, and, as I suppose, losing something ​of his breath, he gave up, and I heard only now and then the noise of his hard breathing. We had by this both grown very serious, and I’ll warrant that he wanted blood of me for his pricks as much as I demanded it of him. And then, as it fell out, the tip of my blade took his shoulder. He swore under his breath.
“’Sdeath, Ryder,” he cried, “’tis the way to my gizzard. Here’s for yours,” and came at me more hotly
And this state of affairs ran on for something over the half-hour, so that we soon came to feel worn. I felt now that I had the uppermost of him, being at once more agile in the darkness, and of sharper ears; whereas he may have been the better swordsman—I never knew. So all of a sudden, and when I was pushing him very hard and heard the sounds of distress in his throat, partly, no doubt, because of his wound, I says, “Sir Ralph,” says I, “this thing has gone far enough.”
“Ha!” cried he, through his panting. “I have you winded, my fine fellow.”
“Nay,” I replied, “for my own part I am ​in no hurry to quit. Yet why should we be at this labour for a man whom I do not reckon at a straw?”
“Fie, Ryder, fie!” says he, “to go back thus upon a friend!”
“Indeed,” said I, “’twas no friendship but a very common vanity set me on to this; and now that I am like to worst you, I am in no mind to slay a man for the value of a humour.”
“Worst me!” says he, with a touch of haughtiness; “my good man, I begin, for the first time, to think you have a fear.”
But this was too much for me, and I made no more effort to reconcile him, but, on the contrary, beset him lustily. And then began the last scene in that remarkable affair. We were both spent with fatigue, but he was farther gone than myself, and, besides, had his wound. We were now, according to my guess, somewhere about the middle of the room. We directed ourselves by instinct, and ’twas no saying whether the blade would run into the air, meet steel with steel, or cut and hack upon the body. I was, myself, picked out with a ​score of bloody places, and, being weak for loss of blood, was for ending the hellish business with all dispatch. And thus, with thrust and parry, aimed and taken at random, we pushed across the flagstones, he receding slowly from my reach. But presently he seemed to rally, and his blade came whizzing for my vitals. Ere the point struck I was back a foot, and lunging forward sent in my own iron upon the level from my shoulder. It lit upon his sword, and then slid up; but the blow was so hot that still the point ran on, and the next I was aware had slipped softly into something, and the hilt was fetched back in my hand with a jar. All of sudden there was a dull bang, as of a head upon the wall, and a shrill and horrible scream rang out in that black and fatal chamber. The heavy fall of a body upon the stones ensued, and my sword was jerked from my shaking hand.
“Sir Ralph,” I cried, “Sir Ralph!” in an alarm, for the shriek in a manner affected my nerves, stiff though they be with a rough life.
There was a voice calling upon me feebly, and ​suddenly all was quiet. I stooped over his body, groping for it in the dark as best I might; and the first thing my fingers happened upon was my own sword, which, following downward, took me to his face. And at that and without further inquiry, I fetched up, with my heart in my mouth, for I knew now the meaning of that sickening scream. And there was never a sound from the dead man, but I, fingering in his breast, felt the pulse of his heart was gone.
I remember that I stood up and gazed stupidly into the black vacancy. Sir Ralph was dead as a maggot, and there was the topsman for me, and Baverstock too. This set me thinking, and presently I ran smartly into the other cell, where the fellow himself lay unconcerned in the dusk upon the boards.
“See, here,” said I, surlily enough, “it seemed that the price of your liberty is the price of a life, and as ’tis a habit of mine to pocket what I buy, come along and ask no questions; for ’tis your head as well as mine’s in danger.”
He followed me into the inner cell, where, after a short exploration, we hit upon the little ​window of which I have spoken, and which looked forth low upon a wide ditch half-full of very muddy water. There was a bar across it, which shook to the touch, and this it appeared we might remove; at least ’twas our one chance.
“Wrench!” says I to Baverstock, and we shook together.
Whether ’twas our united strength, or that the bar was insecure, and the masonry inferior, the room being long out of occupation, I know not; but the iron gave, and there was our egress ready. I squeezed through the narrow hole and dropped plump into the water, whither my companion followed; and, scrambling out upon the farther side, we came presently by devious bye-ways upon the meadows. I was in no mood for talking, as you may believe, neither by reason of my wounds, and the wetting which made them smart, nor because of the horrid affair of Sir Ralph’s death. Indeed, I was more than impatient to be rid of the man that had brought me into this needless business. And so, when he turned to me in a formal ​fashion, and spoke out his thanks, my temper broke.
“Sir,” says he, very stiffly, “in the name of King James III., I thank you for these services to-day. Rest assured that they shall not be forgotten when his Majesty comes to his own.”
’Twas then I turned on him savagely. “As for your King James,” says I, “or King Byblow, what the Devil is it to me? Let him go hang or go rot,” says I. “But damn my soul!” I says, “I have just let the life out of the only man I could ha’ took for friend, and all for a squinting country lout. And, damn your soul!” I says, “but I will take toll of you for the fact.”
Whereat, taking him by the throat, I made him deliver, for all his oaths and his fury. And a pretty sum I took upon that occasion, as I remember well, the which bought a box of dainty trinkets for Mrs Polly.