Long Ago, Far Away - Esmè Stuart (best classic novels TXT) 📗
- Author: Esmè Stuart
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Harry's courage, however, was not merely nominal, it was of the right sort. The sacrifice he was asked to make was none the less great because it was one not seen of men. He was to give up his will, the hardest thing a man or a boy can do; but it needed only Mr. Aylett's firm answer to show Harry that his duty was very plain, and that God required this of him.
It was like taking a plunge into cold water, where it is the first resolution that is the worst part of the action; suddenly, with a quick lifting of his head, and a new hopeful light in his blue eyes very different from the unsatisfied longing gaze of ten minutes ago, Harry spoke, and as he did so his clenched hands and his whole demeanour told plainly that the boy meant what he said.
'I will give it up, sir; as it is, the wishing brings me no happiness, so I will even put the wishing to flight.'
Mr. Aylett grasped the lad's hand warmly.
'God bless you, Harry, you are a brave fellow. I am proud of you. Come to me to-morrow, and I will show you a new book a friend has sent me; or, better, walk back with me to the Vicarage.'
'I would willingly, sir,' said Harry quietly, 'but father bade me go to the meadow and see if White Star should be driven in under shelter to-night. Our man Fiske has met with an accident, so I promised to see after White Star before sundown. She was a little sick this morning.'
'To-morrow will do well enough,' said Mr. Aylett, glad to see that Harry was beginning already to turn his mind steadily to home matters, 'and if you have time we will go to St. Catherine's Church on Canvey. There is a young clergyman come there to see if he will accept the cure, and I know you will row me over.' Harry promised gladly, and then Mr. Aylett with another shake of the hand turned his face homeward. When he was gone Harry flung himself on the ground to think over the promise he had just given. He would--yes, he would keep his word.
CHAPTER II.
CAPTURED.
How long he lay there, Harry never could recollect afterwards, but feeling a chilliness creeping over him he suddenly remembered his duty. He must make haste, for the sun was setting, and if White Star did not seem to be better she must be led home from the damp marsh meadows that bordered the water. Though Harry was feeling intensely sad, he had a secret feeling of satisfaction at having conquered in a very hard struggle, and this perhaps made him look more at the things he was passing than, as he was wont to do, at the distant sea. This evening everything was calm and quiet, both on the darkening waters and on the green meadows. Harry noted a gate that needed repairing, and made up his mind to tell his father that it must be seen to, or the cattle would be straying; then he glanced at the little cart-horse foal that promised to be a rival of its mother. The Pitsea Farm cart-horses were deservedly famous, and Harry's father, George Fenn, was as good a breeder of horses as he was a staunch Churchman and opposed to the Puritan element only now quieting down.
At last Harry reached the meadow where White Star was grazing and where some thirty sheep were sharing the pasture. He went up to examine the gentle creature, and she knew well enough the young master's voice and touch, so that she hardly stopped chewing the cud to give him a kindly stare.
'White Star seems not so bad,' thought Harry. 'I'll tell father to give her another day in the meadow, she is not too ill to enjoy this sweet grass.'
Harry had been so much engaged in attending to White Star that he did not hear the soft splash of some oars at the bottom of the meadow he was in, nor did he see that four strong, rough-looking men in seafaring attire had quietly moored their long-boat to an old willow stump, and that two of them were hastily scanning the sheep and cattle that were only a few yards away.
'Zounds!' muttered the first who stepped up the bank, 'what have we here? a lad in this very field. I'faith, I saw no one from the creek.'
'A mere sapling,' laughed the other, 'take no heed of him, and he will soon take to his heels at the sight of us. Now, quick's the word, the captain is impatient to be off with the tide.'
In another instant the men had begun their work. They had come for the purpose of carrying off some sheep and cattle, and having waited till this late hour they had not expected to find a witness to their robbery. Quietly and stealthily as they had landed, however, their intentions could not be carried out without some disturbance, and Harry was first made aware of their presence by the sudden helter-skelter of the sheep and the immediate curiosity expressed by poor White Star, whose evening meal was to be so violently disturbed.
In a moment more Harry had seized the situation, which indeed it was not difficult to do, as he now beheld one of his father's sheep suddenly captured by the clever expedient of an extemporised lasso, and when the poor animal had been dragged towards its captor the robber made short work of tying his victim's legs together, and leaving it to bleat beside him whilst he proceeded to capture another in the same manner, before dragging them to the long-boat.
All the fierce courage of the hardy yeoman's son rose to its height as he beheld this daring robbery carried on under his very eyes. Nay, when the strongest and foremost man began unconcernedly to make his way towards White Star herself, the boy's indignation knew no bounds.
'How now?' he cried indignantly. 'What do you mean, you rascals, by coming here? this is our field and our cattle; away at once, and unloose the sheep, or, by'r laykin! it will be worse for you. I will call for help, and you will soon be treated in such a manner as you deserve.'
This fierce speech had not, however, the desired effect. The man laughed ironically as if Harry were a mere baby, and approaching White Star he swiftly threw the lasso over the animal's sleek head.
'Out of the way, young blusterer, or it will be the worse for thee. Our master, the captain, requires these cattle to victual our ship before sailing; come, off with thee! and don't halloo all the breath out of thy body.'
But Harry's blood was up. Enraged at the man's daring and effrontery, he seized a stout stick from the hedge-row and sprang upon the intruder with the fury of a young lion. He never considered the inequality of the struggle or the folly of his engaging single-handed with a ruffian of this description; he only thought of saving his father's property and avenging the insult. Nor were his well-directed blows mere make-believe, and as the man before him was suddenly aware of a sharp stinging pain across his forehead, he let go the lasso and sprang on to the boy with a fierce oath.
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'What, you young viper, you dare to strike me? Well, take that. Here, Jim, this way, bring the rope here; I'll teach this churl to bethump me.'
As he spoke he wrenched away poor Harry's stick, and with a well-directed blow he laid the boy on the ground. Harry felt a terrible pain in his head, his brain seemed to reel; bright, blood-red flashes blotted out the familiar fields, and then with a groan of pain he stretched out his right arm to grasp at some support, after which he remembered no more.
The man appealed to as Jim had now run up, and laughed as he saw Harry fall insensible on the dewy grass.
'Bravo! the lad fell in fair fight, Joseph; but i'fecks! who would have thought of seeing you engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with such a stripling? Hast done for him, comrade?' he added with curiosity, in which was mingled neither pity nor fear. And yet the sight of Harry Fenn might have softened even a hard heart, one would have thought, as he lay there in the twilight on the dewy grass, whilst a slow trickling line of red blood fell from his forehead over his fair curling hair.
'Here, make haste,' said the first man, whom his friend addressed as Coxon, 'the captain's orders were that we must lose no time; there'll be several more trips this evening, and he means to run down the Channel before morning.'
'Then we'd best not leave the lad here. What say you, Coxon, shall I despatch him for fear of his waking up and telling tales before we return?'
Coxon looked down on the brave lad, and decided, he knew not why, to act more mercifully.
'Let him be, or wait--tie his legs and throw him in the long-boat; on our ship he'll tell no tales, and when we cast anchor we can drop him somewhere, or give him a seaman's burial if he's dead, for, to tell the truth, it was a good whack that I dealt him. Now, Jim, quick, for fear some of those land dolts come down upon us, and deafen us with their complaints.'
After this quick certainly was the word. Harry was tied, much after the fashion of his own sheep, and cast with little ceremony into the long-boat; further booty was secured, till no more could be carried during this trip, and then, as silently as it had come, the boat was rowed swiftly down the creek till they reached their destination, namely, the good ship 'Scorpion,' a privateer bound for the West Indies, after having lately made a very successful bargain with the cargo it had safely brought home.
How long Harry remained unconscious he never knew: when he came to himself it was some time before he could collect any sequence in his thoughts. He felt, however, that he was in a cramped and confined place, and so put out his hands to make more room, as it were, for his limbs; but he could give no explanation to himself of his whereabouts, though he half realised that the night air was blowing in his face, and that something like sea spray now and then seemed to be dashed on his head. His hands were free, but what of his legs? He experienced a sharp cutting pain above his ankles, and with some difficulty he reached down to the seat of pain with one of his hands. Yes, there was a rope tied round his legs; who had done this, and where was he? He remembered standing on Hæsten's mound looking longingly at the sea, and he also recalled Mr. Aylett's words and his own fierce struggle against his strong inclinations, and then--what had followed?
Here for a long time his mind remained a blank, till a decided lurch forced the conviction upon him that he was certainly in a ship, not on the green marsh meadow at home.
Home! He must make haste and get home; his father would wonder what kept him so long, it was quite dark; how anxious his fond mother would be. He must at once get rid of that horrid thing that prevented his rising, and he must run as fast as he could back to Pitsea Farm. But what of White Star? White Star, the meadow, the--the----
All at once the scene of his conflict flashed into his mind, and the awful truth burst upon him. He was a prisoner in some enemy's ship--or could it be in one of those dreadful privateers, whose ravages were often spoken of, and whom Mr. Aylett had said ought to be put down by Government with a firm hand? Ay, and those ruffians who had treated him with such brutality, they must be no other than some of those dreaded buccaneers, whose atrocities in the West Indies made the blood of peaceable people run cold, and wonder why
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