The Cockerel

H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON.*

HAD ever the name upon the road of one that would lend a civil ear to a fellow-creature in distress, and I did not belie my repute, as I challenge any man to prove. Add to that, I was ever agog to give my aid to a wench when she was in trouble. 'Tis the part of a man to stand by the weaker sex, if so be he sees the chance; and as for their tricks and their whimseys [sic], and all the little devilments, why, it belongs to their armament, and there's an end of it. They go into battle in such array, and a man must abide his chances. As for me, I have been worsted in the encounters once or twice, but I bear no grudge. 'Tis only a nagging woman that I cannot digest, a hell-cat spit-fire she. All others are welcome in their bravery of lace and frill.

But there was naught of Miss Pussy about the girl I met at the "Grey Mare" by Highlow Marshes. 'Twas a mild day in September, of what year I cannot recall, but 'twas when there was a number of conspiracies and rebellions and plots and Heaven knows what, against His Gracious Majesty—that was old Rowley. The affair began, as one might say, the moment I entered the inn, pretty tired and hot; for 'twas fallen dark in the passage-way, and I joggled against someone at the foot of the stairway.

"Hold up!" said I in a friendly manner, for 'twas clear who was at fault; and all I got for my politeness was an oath snapped out in my face.

"Rip me!" said I. "If I was not in haste for meat and drink, I'd run something down your throat."

The man said nothing, but, extricating himself, sheered off in a surly fashion, and the light streamed upon him. I saw him to be a lanky youth, full, I took it, of his own importance. He was dressed in fine raiment, sharp and suspicious of face, and his chin was as bare as twigs in winter. I thought no more of him as I swung upstairs,, where I was presently waited on by mine host. I was very thirsty, and I ordered a big jug of ale the while my dinner was preparing. 'Twas something about four of the afternoon, and 'twas fair weather, with the apples turning on the trees, and I looked forth of the window, musing very pleasantly. In the midst of my thoughts comes to me a voice at the back, which brought me round.

"Sir, is a young gentleman arrived here yet from Sparshot?"

'Twas a girl in a green riding costume that met my eye, mighty pretty in a babyish way, her mouth a cherub's, dimples in her cheeks, and a scared and anxious look in her eyes. I made a leg to her. "Faith, mistress, there was one here a moment since—a mettlesome, handsome youth," said I, speaking as I would to a child.

"'Tis he," she said eagerly; and then: "But I beg your pardon. 'Twas my error. I mistook you for the landlord. I see you are a soldier, sir."

'Twas a common mistake to suppose me a soldier, the which I favour in my bearing. And seeing the sort of girl I had to deal with, I bowed again.

"You have sharp wits, young mistress," I said, adding; "The gentleman went forth upon my entrance. Doubtless the innkeeper will acquaint you further."

And, the host coming in just then with my dishes, she questioned him, learning that the young man had gone, but would return to dine.

She stood awhile as if embarrassed and not knowing what to do; so that I pressed her to be seated.

"The wings of affection will fetch your brother to you," said I smiling.

She blushed a little at that and looked down, but presently spoke.

"I would not have you to think 'tis my brother, sir," said she. Bless the simpleton! What mattered it to me if 'twere her brother or her lover? But I answered civilly enough, and, the landlord being gone, was falling to on the viands.

"Soldiers," says Miss again in a little, but hesitatingly, as though she must maintain the conversation for politeness, "soldiers have hard fare in camp, sir?"

"Lord!" said I. "'Tis no word to me. Hard fare! I have dined off my bootstrings in Holland."

"Holland!" says she, pricking up her ears. "You have been in Flanders?"

"You may say so," said I, nodding.

She gazed at me wonderingly, and I could almost have sworn I knew what she was thinking of; so innocent of face was she.

"Have you—have you seen the Duke of Monmouth?" she asked breathlessly.

I winked at her, but just for merriment, to play with the child. "You ply me hard, mistress!" I said; for the Duke was in bad odour with his father, and had fled to Holland.

She looked confused, but, recovering herself, said quickly: "I—I am interested in His Grace," says she.

I could have laughed outright at this pretty conspirator, and to humour her said I: "And so, faith, am I."

She leaned forward, staring at me. "You are—you are one of those who"

I nodded, and she said "Oh!" with a gasp, and glanced at the door.

"Yes, 'tis you and I and the Duke together," says I. "No, no!" she cried out. "You mistake. 'Tis not I. My father" she paused. "We are loyal to His Majesty, and to the Duke of York, his brother." She sighed. "But others are not," and then, while I puzzled over her, she went on as if unwilling to offend: "But I have no doubt 'tis your conscience urges you—as others. But I fear" She rose and looked out of the window. "'Tis ill to mix in such perilous affairs."

"Aye, we run a risk," said I recklessly. As I ate I was aware that she was watching me, eyeing me as if she wanted something but knew not how to get it.

"'Tis well enough for grown men who know all about such matters," she said next. "But not for youths who know little."

"You say truly," I answered. "Youth should keep its nose out of plots."

She came back and sat down, as if she had suddenly made up her mind. "I know one such," she said. "And he will mingle with such hazards, and oh, I fear he will endanger himself!"

I could spy through her as if she were glass, and I guessed 'twas the sour youth of whom she spoke.

I nodded. "He would be a fool to put his head in a noose without due thought," I replied. "He should be warned."

"I have warned him," she said eagerly, now forgetting all her innocent caution, "but he pays no heed. He will keep his way. And he has despatches entrusted to him which would ruin him," she said, and then she wept, crying through her tears: "And now I have learned that he is suspected, and that there is a posse to pursue him—and, oh, why does he not come?"

I dropped my knife and fork. "You are here to warn him, mistress?" I asked in another tone.

She nodded, sobbing. "He will not give up. But you, who are of his opinions, and his party—maybe you could persuade him, sir. Oh, sir, I entreat you!"

Well, what was I to do with this poor weeping innocent clinging to my arm, and soliciting my aid, and calling to witness the difference 'twixt a seasoned soldier such as I and her callow stripling?

"Dry those pearls," said I to her, patting her shoulder. "Faith, I'll do my best with the lad. If he have any spirit at all, he'll jump down my throat; but if he have any heart, he will yield. Come, my pretty, drink a health," and I poured her out a glass of the wine the man had brought. "Here's to His Majesty!"

"You say that!" she cried.

I saw my blunder, but I retrieved it, "'Tis the next Majesty we would alter, not old Rowley, bless him!"

And, being a little cheered by my promise, she sipped the wine and blinked away the tears.

After that there was nothing more to do but to comfort her, which I did in a lofty manner, vowing I would send her lover back to her safe and sound. Presently she gave a start and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"They will miss me," she said. "I cannot tarry." "Indeed," said I, "you have started the ball, and 'twill roll of itself, or call me Dutchman. Best mount and trot"; for I could see she was anxious.

"But you know not Mr. Cassilis," she said.

"By your leave, I'll take leave to make his acquaintance," I answered. "I can scrape acquaintance with Dukes and Marshals—aye, and with more honourable company than either, and have done so in my time."

At that she seemed content, for any promise would have soothed that baby, so trustful was she. And so she got to the door, I following, and when she was set in the saddle she gave a pretty smile.

"You have been kind to one in sore distress," she said; "and I pray God to bless you and have mercy on you, and may He protect you all your life!" says she earnestly.

"Faith, He will wipe off some offences against me for that pleading, I'll warrant," I replied pretty roughly, for the little piece touched me so. And so it came that I did not notice that the young man was approaching from t'other side as she rode off. The first news I had of him was his voice raised in a surly fashion.

"Would you keep the door, sir?" he demanded.

I moved aside to let him pass, but he stopped and stared after the girl, who was cantering lightly in the distance; and then he gave me his eyes truculently. I said nothing, but went in; and presently he, too, entered the inn and sat down to his dinner. Now you will see what was before me, to make friends with a snarling whelp that had not the civility to say "Thank you" for a common courtesy; but what I had vowed that I would do. Galloping Dick is ever a man of his word. So I broke through the silence at the table.

"'Tis fair weather for tile saddle," said I.

He threw me a glance and made no answer; at which I was nettled. "'Tis a fair day," said I, "to wear jack-boots."

He muttered something about jack-fools, and my gorge rose.

"I did you the honour, sir, to make a remark," I said sharply.

"Landlord!" he called, rapping loudly. "Why is there no privacy in this byre of yours?"

"Maybe 'tis a kennel would suit puppies better," said I.

"How now?" he said, aflame. "Do you wish to quarrel?"

"Not a bit," said I. "I am a man of peace. Not but what I can use a skewer on occasion. But, to say the truth, I have no stomach for a fight. The sight of blood makes me whimper."

He eyed me uneasily, as if he knew not what to make of this, for I spoke in a lordly, indifferent manner; but, saying no more, he went on plying his knife.

Yet this was not to get any closer to him, and it seemed I had a formidable task. So I made another essay.

"What's the news of Town?" I asked. "Is it true Lord Shaftesbury is gone to Holland?"

He made a start, and glanced at me suspiciously, but I was looking innocent enough.

"I know nothing of Town," he replied shortly, "and I am hungry. If you have no appetite yourself, you will have the goodness to leave me to mine."

Here he was, the cub, hedged about like Jericho, but I would have those walls go down with all the trumpets and shawms.

"Ah, you are wise," I said knowingly, "to drink good liquor and to eat good victuals—there's all a young man may desire, along of a pretty wench maybe. What wants he more? If I were a boy, I would snap my fingers at other concerns!"

He seemed to be brooding over something, and paid little heed to this, but burst out

"What know you of that lady, sir?"

"What lady?" said I, opening my eyes.

"'Tis ill to play with me," he said, fingering his sword. "'Tis plain there was only one lady here."

This was jealousy, sure enough, and I should like to have dallied with it, but I remembered what I had promised, and answered civilly—

"I never clapped eyes on her before."

He sat with a frown, thinking.

"And yet you talked with her?" he said next.

"I gave to her the time of day," I answered, and again he was silent.

I began to see that if I were to accomplish anything, 'twas necessary to bestir myself; and so I thought to lure him on much as Miss had lured me, with talk of Flanders.

"A brave youth such as you would do well in the wars," says I. He glanced askew at me. "I have seen fighting myself," I went on. I am come from the Low Countries." At that he got up, manifestly in agitation, and called for the innkeeper, who came post haste. The youth demanded his bill, but said no word to me. 'Twas clear he was in a taking, and I guessed he had some suspicion of me. Well, I had done all that I could, and 'twas of no avail; but all of a sudden a thought came to me that put me in a better temper. And I cursed myself for a fool to have wasted my time and temper on a raw fledgling when the way with him was to my hand. So I made no more ado, but with indifference watched him prepare to resume his journey. He flung out of the inn, and, going to the window, I saw him mount and ride off, throwing back an uneasy glance at the house. He took the London road.

I finished my wine in comfort, for I knew Calypso's mettle, and a quarter of an hour later I, too, was on the road in pursuit of my fine gentleman.

I drew in sight of him on the other side of the marsh, and, hearing the mare's hoofs, he looked back and urged forward his horse. But I soon came up with him and gave him good evening.

"Young sir," said I in a cheerful voice, "stand and deliver!"

He made no answer, but cocked a pistol swiftly and shot at me. The ball whistled by my shoulder.

"Oh!" said I, "you go heavily armed and all prepared for any encounter, like a buck of spirit. But 'twill avail you not. Disgorge, puppy; disgorge!"

With an oath he drew another barker, but I ran the mare up to his cruppers, and his aim was shaken. Nevertheless, the bullet scraped my arm and flipped my temple.

"The devil you would!" I exclaimed, and presented a barker in turn at him. But he was a lad of courage, as it proved, and, dropping his useless weapon, slipped to the ground and drew out his bodkin. Heaven, I could have peppered him where he stood, but naturally that was not my design; and so, following his example, I came to earth and drew my sword. We had several exchanges, but he knew his guards; and I perceived that it would take my best efforts to worst him, particularly as I did not wish to pink him.

At it we went, clash and clank, he growing breathless, but as fiery as ever, and I maintaining an even attack, looking for him to weary. After a time he did so, leaving me the chance to get underneath his guard, and so I dropped my point.

"My bantam, I have you," said I, "and 'tis needless to spill blood. So let's cry quits, and strip your pockets." For I was resolved, as you may have guessed, to have his papers that the girl spoke of. If he would not be dissuaded from his folly, he would thus at least lose his dangerous luggage.

"Hang you for a rogue!" cries this young tiger, and falls on me briskly again; so that I was forced to defend myself. And once again there was naught but the noise of steel on steel and our hard breathing. And then I saw he was fighting for more than life, for he supposed me to be after the papers, and 'twas that had made him fly from the inn. He thrust with the courage of desperation, but, of course, he could make no impression on Dick Ryder's fence, and so he began once more to flag. I could have pinked him in a score of places, and I had almost the mind to do so and end it, but I refrained with the picture of that pretty Miss in my eye, and her a-weeping over his blood and wounds. And so I made an appeal again.

"Give up, concede, my cockerel," I called. "You have fought well, but you can no longer. I would not stretch so handsome a youth as cold clay. Yield, my buck!"

He had not the breath for an oath, but his eyes were flaming red, and he made a last effort, getting home on my shoulder.

"I will spit you!" I called, and I ran on him. But he, going back, gave and struck out wildly, and I had not the heart for all the stinging in my flesh. "Look you," said I, dropping the point, "you can see how I have spared you. I want not to hurt you, only what you carry. And if I may not have it one way, I will have it another. See you. I will toss you for it."

"You are an impudent knave," he managed to stutter.

"Very well," said I good-humouredly, "call me what you will. I have a grudge against your iron, for my shoulder smarts like a busting. You young wasp, I'll give ye another chance. But I vow 'twill be the last. Prime and load your pistol, and if so be you can hit the mark on yonder tree more accurately than I, I will take off my hat to you. But if you be beaten," says I, "you shall deliver what you have into my charge. 'Tis better than a man's heart," said I, "and 'tis plain he who gets nighest would have killed t'other in a duello."

He looked at me, puffing, and, "Will you swear it?" he said.

"That I will," said I, for there is none in the kingdom that goes closer to a mark than I.

"Very well," said he, after a pause; and he picked up his barker and began to charge it.

Now, if I had not been so anxious to settle the business, I would have given more thought to him; but the fact is, 'twas growing dark, and I was more than usual careless. And so it came as somewhat of a surprise when I saw his weapon levelled at my head from six paces away.

"The traitorous young whelp!" thought I, and lurching, I dropped to earth like a struck heron. His pistol cracked, but I rolled over and got him by the knees; and in a trice he was on his back and underneath me. I knelt with my knees in his midriff.

"You dirty puppy!" said I. "I have a mind to riddle you thoroughly myself; but maybe another way will serve. I will roast the bantam in his proper gravy."

Now, as I have said, 'twas on the verge of the marshes we had encountered, and by this the dusk was fallen, and the ground underfoot was lumpy, the black peat showing through in protrusions. And about were little marish [sic] pools, reflecting the glow of the evening sky. But we had for some time strayed off the road, where the nags stood quiet enough, as if wondering on this pother. And so, seeing whither we had drifted, and how near one of the pools was, I unstrapped his coat, wrenched out the stiff packet of papers from his pocket, and for a parting rolled him down the slope of peat into the water.

He went in with a splash, but presently got to his feet, and stood up in the black mud of it to his middle, storming like a tinker. But I had what I wanted now, and I paid him but the tribute of laughter. And so I left him; and, mounting the mare, continued on the London road. I had done what I had promised for Miss, and at some trouble and temper; but now 'twas over I thought no more of that, but trotted merrily along in the twilight. There was a young moon in the west, and shone like silver; and the chill in the autumn air was pleasant enough, so that I rode easily, and with my thoughts warming me comfortably. And it must have been about two miles on the further side of Bymere that I first caught the sound of horses.

It came along the lane, sharp and quick, and I reined in to listen. Plainly enough 'twas a party of horsemen coming up at a gallop. But it gave me no concern, and I continued steadily on my way, singing of a song. Then the riders became louder, and I knew they were in the rear; and next they had overtaken me, and were passing by upon either side to a cheerful clank of swords and oaths, when one cries out loudly, and the party drew rein,

"This should be he," says a voice, and one put a hand on my bridle.

"Hang!" said I, striking at him with my fist; but the leader of the party forced his horse through the knot. The moon shone thinly on us all.

"Edward Cassilis," said he, "I arrest you in the King's name!"

So soon as the words were out of his mouth my wits were flying. If it had been my own name he had given, I would have tried a bout with the posse, for there were one or two things against me that I knew of, and, besides, the repute of Dick Ryder was pretty well spread over the kingdom. But this was another business, as I saw. So I drew myself up.

"Hands off!" I cried. "Who be you to stop a peaceable man on the highway?"

"We are on His Majesty's business, Edward Cassilis," he replied, "and you are my prisoner."

"'Tis not my name," I answered. "I am plain John Spencer."

"You may travel as Spencer," he said with a laugh, "but 'tis as Edward Cassilis you come along with us. And I should advise you to take it easily," he says.

"Sure," said I, "a loyal subject of His Majesty may ask leave to know why he is thus maltreated."

"I doubt 'twill do you no harm to know what is already best known to you, sir," he made answer. "You are taken on a warrant of Sir Charles Pomfret as suspect of treasonable practices."

"Treasonable practices!" I cried. "What stinking fish is this? I am not the man you name, and you arrest me at your peril."

At that he turned and spoke in a lower voice with one of his companions, and I heard some words that passed.

"'Tis his size … but I had a notion he was a younger man. … Best search him for the papers."

Now, up till then 'twas with some sense of entertainment I had endured their usage, for at the worst, thought I, I should be fed and lodged free till one was fetched that testified I was not the man they wanted. But now all of a sudden I was struck with dismay, and that at the word of those papers. For I saw the situation in a flash. This was the posse that the girl had spoken of, and they were after her lover; and, more by token, the very papers they were in search of lay in my own pockets. I was silent, revolving this ugly thought for a while, and presently they finished their whispering. By this time the troop was about me on all sides, and I recognised that it was impossible to break away. There seemed indeed no hope for me in that desperate predicament. And so I did what was ever my custom when run to earth—I sat mum and stirred not, but began to be busy with things ahead. I made no remonstrance when they opened my coat, nor said I a word when one of the troopers tore out the packet from my pocket and handed it to the captain.

"'Tis the documents, I'll wager a guinea," he said, and examined them closely in the moonlight. And then I opened my mouth.

"'Tis a wonder," said I coolly, "how wise a head is here! Sure, there is enough in that innocent-looking packet to hang a score of fine fellows and to send reverend beards to the block. Well-a-day, there's promotion for someone, I doubt not, and for a certain zealous captain, to be sure!"

"Enough!" he said, somewhat disconcerted at this and my sarcasm. "We will let Sir Charles see this and the prisoner. On the road for Thurston Grange!" You can conceive my feelings as we rode back along the way I had come, and how I cursed my ill-luck and folly that had precipitated me into this plight. Here was I, than whom no more loyal subject of old Rowley bestrode a horse, accused of carrying treasonable papers, and caught in the act too; and all along of taking pity on tears and dimity and pretty cheeks. It made me wild to see myself so done by a trick of fortune.

As we passed by the marsh in the twilight I cast a glance about for the young cockerel that had been the source of my undoing, but there was no sign of him or his horse; and so, in a mighty bad temper, but exercising all my wits, I jogged along in their midst for Thurston Grange, whatever that might be.

'Twas full night when the posse drew rein by a big white house set in the thick of a park, and the captain dismounted and entered. And presently he emerged again and gave orders that I was to be brought in. I will admit that there was no plan in my head at that moment, nor did I see how 'twas possible for me to make good an escape from all these hands. But I put the best face on that I might, and was fetched between two troopers into a lighted chamber, where a stern-faced, grey-looking man was seated in a chair. So soon as he saw me he stared, and turned over some papers before him.

"So," he said drily, "it seems, Captain Pearson, you have struck better than you knew. These are the papers, but this is not Edward Cassilis."

"Is it not?" said the soldier in surprise, and then laughed carelessly. "Well, by the favour of Heaven we have missed our quarry to advantage," he said.

The other mused. "I could have sworn Cassilis was in it," he said. "There was evidence" He broke off. "But we need go no further. We have the fox. I will alter the warrant to fit."

"He said his name was John Spencer," observed the captain.

"Spencer will serve," says Sir Charles, and dipped his quill.

I had never a word to say, for there was no word that would save me, and I was not one to waste my breath.

"It may be of some service to you, young man," said Sir Charles, "if you will reveal the names of those who were associated with you in this enterprise. I mean not these—tall poppies," he said with a sinister grin, laying his hand on the papers, "but your immediate associates. We fly at all game in this business."

"I know naught," said I, breaking silence at last. "If there be any treachery, and the rats' names be there, why, old Rowley is welcome to them. I have no taste for vermin. But as for

And here I came to a pause, for at the doorway, newly-entered, my eyes lighted on Miss of the inn. I stared at her in amazement, and her face was white as a lily.

"Father!" she began, with a little rush forward, and drew her breath in a sob.

"This is no place for you, Cicely," said Sir Charles sharply. "This is business for men, not women and children. Get you gone!"

She hesitated, still with her eyes wavering on me out of her pale face, while I smiled at her across the room.

"You will give no news of your associates!" says Sir Charles.

"I have none to give," said I indifferently, and whistled to show them I cared not.

Sir Charles rose. "Captain Pearson," said he, "you will give me the pleasure of your company at supper ere you start on your ride. And no doubt your men would be glad of some refreshment in the kitchen. This is a satisfactory business which His Majesty will much appreciate."

I had one glimpse of Miss at the doorway ere she vanished, and then I was marched from the room, along a stone passage to the rear of the house, where the kitchen quarters lay. By this time they had secured me with a rope, and I was trussed like a fowl, and helpless. Yet I'll warrant I would have been equal to them all, had the occasion required it, even without—but you shall hear.

There was much talk and excitement in the kitchen over my capture, all the servants coming to have a peep at me while the troopers were drinking. But I sat quiet, considering a way. Now the way I had was as sure a way as you might ask, but I will say nothing of it more, but come to the entrance of Miss, who entered the kitchen timidly, asking for the cook, and shrank back when she saw me.

"Is that the rebel?" she said in a fearsome, loud whisper, and one of the men answered her.

"He looks a desperate man," said she, and inquired if I had fought.

"'Twas of no avail, mistress," says the fellow; "we had him in a trap prettily."

"Oh," says she, shuddering, "I am afraid of him. He should be put in a prison."

"He can do no harm," says another.

"He might escape," says she, and turned to the cook. "Have you not a lock to your pantry?" she asked. "He would be safe there." The troopers looked at her. "And you would be freer," she added.

"To be sure, the pantry has walls like a prison," said the cook. "Put the ugly fellow there."

At first there was some demur, but Miss made as if 'twas settled, and bustled about, sending the cook to prepare for my reception. But I said nothing, simply following her with my eyes.

And after a little, the chief of the troopers having inspected the pantry, it seemed they fell in with the notion, and I was stood on my feet, and led out of the kitchen and into a further room that was a scullery. Here was the pantry, a dark, square hole with never a window to light it. Miss hung about, and the door was locked on me.

"There," says she, "now he is secure, and you had best keep the key."

I heard the feet withdrawing, and presently all was still. But in a little there was a tiny sound, as of another key grating in the lock, and then I was aware the door was ajar. But the darkness was so thick I could see naught. Then a soft, small voice called to me gently.

"Sir, I have brought a knife; the door to the garden lies on the left and is on the latch, and your horse is without, tied in the shrubbery."

I shuffled along to the entrance, and my hands met hers. I took the knife, and then to my amazement I felt my hand raised, and the touch of soft lips on my fingers. But she said no word more, and in another instant she was gone.

"There's heart and courage and sweetness there," thought I, "and 'tis wasted on the cockerel." In thirty seconds I had the door open to the garden, and, sure enough. Calypso was awaiting me under the trees, and whinnied low as I greeted her. I mounted and made for the back of the garden, taking the wall that fenced the park, and as the mare got into her stride I looked back at the lighted house settling into the night. Miss had saved me, though 'twas true I could have done it myself.

"Well," thinks I, "I'm glad I saved the cockerel for her, if she wants him, bless her!"