Lavengro - George Borrow (nice books to read TXT) 📗

woman, who during this conversation had resumed their former positions within the tent, looked at each other with a queer look of surprise, as if somewhat disconcerted at what they now heard. They then entered into discourse with each other in the same strange tongue which had already puzzled me. At length the man looked me in the face, and said, somewhat hesitatingly, “so you are not one of them there, after all?”

Myself. One of them there? I don’t know what you mean.

Man. Why, we have been thinking you were a goblin⁠—a devilkin! However, I see how it is: you are a sap-engro, a chap who catches snakes, and plays tricks with them! Well, it comes very nearly to the same thing; and if you please to list with us, and bear us pleasant company, we shall be glad of you. I’d take my oath upon it that we might make a mort of money by you and that sap, and the tricks it could do; and, as you seem fly to everything, I shouldn’t wonder if you would make a prime hand at telling fortunes.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said I.

Man. Of course. And you might still be our God Almighty, or at any rate our clergyman, so you should live in a tilted cart by yourself and say prayers to us night and morning⁠—to wifelkin here, and all our family; there’s plenty of us when we are all together; as I said before, you seem fly, I shouldn’t wonder if you could read.

“Oh, yes!” said I, “I can read;” and, eager to display my accomplishments, I took my book out of my pocket, and opening it at random, proceeded to read how a certain man whilst wandering about a certain solitary island, entered a cave, the mouth of which was overgrown with brushwood, and how he was nearly frightened to death in that cave by something which he saw.

“That will do,” said the man; “that’s the kind of prayers for me and my family, ar’n’t they, wifelkin? I never heard more delicate prayers in all my life! Why, they beat the rubricals hollow!⁠—and here comes my son Jasper.34 I say, Jasper, here’s a young sap-engro that can read, and is more fly than yourself. Shake hands with him; I wish ye to be two brothers.”

With a swift but stealthy pace Jasper came towards us from the farther part of the lane; on reaching the tent he stood still, and looked fixedly upon me as I sat upon the stool; I looked fixedly upon him. A queer look had Jasper; he was a lad of some twelve or thirteen years, with long arms, unlike the singular being who called himself his father; his complexion was ruddy, but his face was seamed, though it did not bear the peculiar scar which disfigured the countenance of the other; nor, though roguish enough, a certain evil expression which that of the other bore, and which the face of the woman possessed in a yet more remarkable degree. For the rest, he wore drab breeches, with certain strings at the knee, a rather gay waistcoat, and tolerably white shirt; under his arm he bore a mighty whip of whalebone with a brass knob, and upon his head was a hat without either top or brim.

“There, Jasper! shake hands, with the sap-engro.”

“Can he box, father?” said Jasper, surveying me rather contemptuously. “I should think not, he looks so puny and small.”

“Hold your peace, fool!” said the man; “he can do more than that⁠—I tell you he’s fly; he carries a sap about, which would sting a ninny like you to dead.”

“What, a sap-engro!” said the boy, with a singular whine, and, stooping down, he leered curiously in my face, kindly, however, and then patted me on the head. “A sap-engro,” he ejaculated; “lor!”

“Yes, and one of the right sort,” said the man; “I am glad we have met with him; he is going to list with us, and be our clergyman and God Almighty, a’n’t you, my tawny?”

“I don’t know,” said I; “I must see what my father will say.”

“Your father; bah!”⁠—but here he stopped, for a sound was heard like the rapid galloping of a horse, not loud and distinct as on a road, but dull and heavy as if upon a grass sward; nearer and nearer it came, and the man, starting up, rushed out of the tent, and looked around anxiously. I arose from the stool upon which I had been seated, and just at that moment, amidst a crashing of boughs and sticks, a man on horseback bounded over the hedge into the lane at a few yards’ distance from where we were; from the impetus of the leap the horse was nearly down on his knees; the rider, however, by dint of vigorous handling of the reins, prevented him from falling, and then rode up to the tent. “ ’Tis Nat,” said the man; “what brings him here?” The newcomer was a stout, burly fellow, about the middle age; he had a savage, determined look, and his face was nearly covered over with carbuncles; he wore a broad slouching hat, and was dressed in a grey coat, cut in a fashion which I afterwards learnt to be the genuine Newmarket cut, the skirts being exceedingly short; his waistcoat was of red plush, and he wore broad corduroy breeches and white top-boots. The steed which carried him was of iron grey, spirited and powerful, but covered with sweat and foam. The fellow glanced fiercely and suspiciously around, and said something to the man of the tent in a harsh and rapid voice. A short and hurried conversation ensued in the strange tongue. I could not take my eyes off this newcomer. Oh, that half-jockey half-bruiser countenance, I never forgot it! More than fifteen years afterwards I found myself amidst a crowd before Newgate; a gallows was erected, and beneath it