The Children of the New Forest - Frederick Marryat (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📗

house was large and commodious. Edward was in deep thought, when he was roused by the little girl, the daughter of the newly-appointed intendant of the forest, who said:

“I am afraid, young sir, you have had but sorry welcome in the kitchen, as there was no one to receive you. I was not aware that Phoebe had gone out. If you will come with me, I may perhaps find you refreshment.”

“Thanks, maiden, you are kind and considerate to an avowed poacher,” replied Edward.

“Oh, but you will not poach, I’m sure; and if you do, I’ll beg you off if I can,” replied the girl, laughing.

Edward followed her into the kitchen, and she soon produced a cold fowl and a venison pasty, which she placed on the table; she then went out and returned with a jug of ale.

“There,” said she, putting it on the table, “that is all that I can find.”.

“Your father’s name is Heatherstone, I believe. It was so on the warrant.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And yours?”

“The same as my father’s, I should presume.”

“Yes, but your baptismal name?”

“You ask strange questions, young sir; but still I will answer you that: my baptismal name is Patience.”

“I thank you for your condescension,” replied Edward “You live here?”

“For the present, good sir; and now I leave you.”

“That’s a nice little girl, thought Edward, although she is the daughter of a Roundhead; and she calls me ‘Sir.’ I can not, therefore, look like Jacob’s grandson, and must be careful.” Edward then set to with a good appetite at the viands which had been placed before him, and had just finished a hearty meal when Patience Heatherstone again came in and said:

“Oswald Partridge is now coming home.”

“I thank you, maiden,” replied Edward. “May I ask a question of you? Where is the king now?”

“I have heard that he resides at Hurst Castle,” replied the girl; “but,” added she in a low tone, “all attempts to see him would be useless and only hurt him and those who made the attempt.” Having said this, she left the room.

 

CHAPTER IX.

 

Edward, having finished his meal, and had a good pull at the jug of ale, which was a liquor he had not tasted for a long while, rose from the table and went out of the back door, and found there Oswald Partridge. He accosted him, stating the reason for his coming over to him. “I did not know that Jacob had a grandson: indeed I never knew that he had a son. Have you been living with him long?”

“More than a year,” replied Edward; “before that, I was in the household at Arnwood.”

“Then you are of the king’s side, I presume?” replied Oswald.

“To death,” replied Edward, “when the time comes.”

“And I am also; that you may suppose, for never would I give a hound to any one that was not. But we had better go to the kennels. Dogs may hear, but they can’t repeat.”

“I little thought to have met any one but you here when I came,” said Edward; “and I will now tell you all that passed between me and the new intendant.” Edward then related the conversation.

“You have been bold,” said Oswald; “but perhaps it is all the better. I am to retain my situation, and so are two others; but there are many new hands coming in as rangers. I know nothing of them, but that they are little fitted for their places, and rail against the king all day long, which, I suppose, is their chief merit in the eyes of those who appoint them. However, one thing is certain, that if those fellows can not stalk a deer themselves, they will do all they can to prevent others; so you must be on the alert, for the punishment is severe.”

“I fear them not; the only difficulty is, that we shall not be able to find a sale for the venison now,” replied Edward.

“Oh never fear that; I will give you the names of those who will take all your venison off your hands without any risk on your part, except in the killing of it. They will meet you in the park, lay down ready money, and take it away. I don’t know, but I have an idea, that this new intendant, or what you may call him, is not so severe as he pretends to be. Indeed, his permitting you to say what he did, and his own words relative to the colonel, convince me that I am right in the opinion that I formed.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“Not much about him, but he is a great friend of General Cromwell, and they say has done good service to the Parliamentary cause; but we shall meet again, for the forest is free at all events.”

“If you come here,” continued Oswald, “do not carry your gun—and see that you are not watched home. There are the dogs for your grandfather. Why, how old must you be, for Jacob is not more than sixty or thereabout?”

“I am fifteen, past, nevertheless.”

“I should have put you down for eighteen or nineteen at least. You are well grown indeed for that age. Well, nothing like a forest life to turn a boy into a man! Can you stalk a deer?”

“I seldom go out without bringing one down.”

“Indeed! That Jacob is a master of his craft, is certain; but you are young to have learned it so soon. Can you tell the slot of a brocket from a stag?”

“Yes, and the slot of a brocket from a doe.”

“Better still. We must go out together; and besides, I must know where the old man’s cottage is (for I do not exactly), in the first place, because I may want to come to you, and in the next, that I may put others on a false scent. Do you know the clump of large oaks which they call the Clump Royal?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Will you meet me there the day after tomorrow, at early dawn?”

“If I live and do well.”

“That’s enough. Take the dogs in the leashes, and go away now.”

“Many thanks; but I must not leave the pony, he is in the stable.”

The keeper nodded adieu to Edward, who left him to go to the stable for the pony. Edward saddled White Billy, and rode away across the forest with the dogs trotting at the pony’s heels.

Edward had much to reflect upon as he rode back to the cottage. He felt that his position was one of more difficulty than before. That old Jacob Armitage would not last much longer, he was convinced; even now the poor old man was shrunk away to a skeleton with pain and disease. That the livelihood to be procured from the forest would be attended with peril, now that order had been restored, and the forest was no longer neglected, was certain; and he rejoiced that Humphrey had, by his assiduity and intelligence, made the farm so profitable as it promised to be. Indeed he felt that, if necessary, they could live upon the proceeds of the farm, and not run the risk of imprisonment by stalking the deer. But he had told the intendant that he considered the game as the king’s property, and he was resolved that he would at all events run the risk, although he would no longer permit Humphrey so to do. “If any thing happens to me,” thought Edward, “Humphrey will still be at the cottage to take care of my sisters; and if I am obliged to fly the country, it will suit well my feelings, as I can then offer my services to those who still support the king.” With these thoughts and many others he amused himself until, late in the evening, he arrived at the cottage. He found all in bed except Humphrey, who had waited for him, and to whom he narrated all that had passed. Humphrey said little in reply; he wished to think it over before he gave any opinion. He told Edward that Jacob had been very ill the whole of the day, and had requested Alice to read the Bible to him during the evening.

The next morning Edward went to Jacob, who for the last ten days had altogether kept his bed, and gave him the detail of what had happened at the keeper’s lodge.

“You have been more bold than prudent, Edward,” replied Jacob; “but I could not expect you to have spoken otherwise. You are too proud and too manly to tell a lie, and I am glad that it is so. As for your upholding the king, although he is now a prisoner in their hands, they can not blame you or punish you for that, as long as you have not weapons in your hands; but now that they have taken the forest under their jurisdiction, you must be careful, for they are the ruling powers at present, and must be obeyed, or the forfeit must be paid. Still I do not ask you to promise me this or that; I only point out to you that your sisters will suffer by any imprudence on your part; and for their sakes be careful. I say this, Edward, because I feel that my days are numbered, and that in a short time I shall be called away. You will then have all the load on your shoulders which has been latterly on mine. I have no fear for the result if you are prudent; these few months past, during which I have only been a burden to you, have proved that you and Humphrey can find a living here for yourselves and your sisters; and it is fortunate, now that the forest laws are about to be put in force, that you have made the farm so profitable. If I might advise, let your hunting in the forest be confined to the wild cattle; they are not game, and the forest laws do not extend to them, and the meat is as valuable as venison—that is to say, it does not sell so dear, but there is more of it; but stick to the farm as much as you can; for you see, Edward, you do not look like a low-born forester, nor ought you to do so; and the more quiet you keep the better. As for Oswald Partridge, you may trust him; I know him well; and he will prove your friend for my sake, as soon as he hears that I am dead. Leave me now—I will talk to you again in the evening. Send Alice to me, my dear boy.”

Edward was much distressed to perceive the change which had taken place in old Jacob. He was evidently much worse; but Edward had no idea how much worse he was. Edward assisted Humphrey in the farm, and in the evening again went to Jacob, and then told him of the arrangement he had made to meet Oswald Partridge on the following morning.

“Go, my boy,” said Jacob; “be as intimate with him as you can, and make a friend of him—nay, if it should be necessary, you may tell him who you are; I did think of telling him myself, as it might be important to you one day as evidence. I think you had better bring him here tomorrow night, Edward; tell him I am dying, and wish to speak to him before I go. Alice will read the Bible to me now, and I will talk with you another time.”

Early the next morning Edward set off to the appointed rendezvous with Oswald Partridge. The Clump Royal, as it was called, from the peculiar size and beauty of the oaks, was