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CHAPTER LVIII
MASTER HUCKABACK'S SECRET
Knowing Master Huckaback to be a man of his word, as
well as one who would have others so, I was careful to
be in good time the next morning, by the side of the
Wizard's Slough. I am free to admit that the name of
the place bore a feeling of uneasiness, and a love of
distance, in some measure to my heart. But I did my
best not to think of this; only I thought it a wise
precaution, and due for the sake of my mother and
Lorna, to load my gun with a dozen slugs made from the
lead of the old church-porch, laid by, long since,
against witchcraft.
I am well aware that some people now begin to doubt
about witchcraft; or at any rate feign to do so; being
desirous to disbelieve whatever they are afraid of.
This spirit is growing too common among us, and will
end (unless we put a stop to it!) in the destruction of
all religion. And as regards witchcraft, a man is
bound either to believe in it, or to disbelieve the
Bible. For even in the New Testament, discarding many
things of the Old, such as sacrifices, and Sabbath, and
fasting, and other miseries, witchcraft is clearly
spoken of as a thing that must continue; that the Evil
One be not utterly robbed of his vested interests.
Hence let no one tell me that witchcraft is done away
with; for I will meet him with St. Paul, than whom no
better man, and few less superstitious, can be found in
all the Bible.
Feeling these things more in those days than I feel
them now, I fetched a goodish compass round, by the way
of the cloven rocks, rather than cross Black Barrow
Down, in a reckless and unholy manner. There were
several spots, upon that Down, cursed and smitten, and
blasted, as if thunderbolts had fallen there, and Satan
sat to keep them warm. At any rate it was good (as
every one acknowledged) not to wander there too much;
even with a doctor of divinity on one arm and of
medicine upon the other.
Therefore, I, being all alone, and on foot (as seemed
the wisest), preferred a course of roundabout; and
starting about eight o'clock, without mentioning my
business, arrived at the mouth of the deep descent,
such as John Fry described it. Now this (though I have
not spoken of it) was not my first time of being there.
For, although I could not bring myself to spy upon
Uncle Reuben, as John Fry had done, yet I thought it no
ill manners, after he had left our house, to have a
look at the famous place, where the malefactor came to
life, at least in John's opinion. At that time,
however, I saw nothing except the great ugly black
morass, with the grisly reeds around it; and I did not
care to go very near it, much less to pry on the
further side.
Now, on the other hand, I was bent to get at the very
bottom of this mystery (if there were any), having less
fear of witch or wizard, with a man of Uncle Reuben's
wealth to take my part, and see me through. So I
rattled the ramrod down my gun, just to know if the
charge were right, after so much walking; and finding
it full six inches deep, as I like to have it, went
boldly down the steep gorge of rock, with a firm
resolve to shoot any witch unless it were good Mother
Melldrum. Nevertheless to my surprise, all was quiet,
and fair to look at, in the decline of the narrow way,
with great stalked ferns coming forth like trees, yet
hanging like cobwebs over one. And along one side, a
little spring was getting rid of its waters. Any man
might stop and think; or he might go on and think; and
in either case, there was none to say that he was
making a fool of himself.
When I came to the foot of this ravine, and over
against the great black slough, there was no sign of
Master Huckaback, nor of any other living man, except
myself, in the silence. Therefore, I sat in a niche of
rock, gazing at the slough, and pondering the old
tradition about it.
They say that, in the ancient times, a mighty
necromancer lived in the wilderness of Exmoor. Here,
by spell and incantation, he built himself a strong
high palace, eight-sided like a spider's web, and
standing on a central steep; so that neither man nor
beast could cross the moors without his knowledge. If
he wished to rob and slay a traveller, or to have wild
ox, or stag for food, he had nothing more to do than
sit at one of his eight windows, and point his unholy
book at him. Any moving creature, at which that book
was pointed, must obey the call, and come from whatever
distance, if sighted once by the wizard.
This was a bad condition of things, and all the country
groaned under it; and Exmoor (although the most honest
place that a man could wish to live in) was beginning
to get a bad reputation, and all through that vile
wizard. No man durst even go to steal a sheep, or a
pony, or so much as a deer for dinner, lest he should
be brought to book by a far bigger rogue than he was.
And this went on for many years; though they prayed to
God to abate it. But at last, when the wizard was
getting fat and haughty upon his high stomach, a mighty
deliverance came to Exmoor, and a warning, and a
memory. For one day the sorcerer gazed from his window
facing the southeast of the compass, and he yawned,
having killed so many men that now he was weary of it.
"Ifackins,' he cried, or some such oath, both profane
and uncomely, 'I see a man on the verge of the
sky-line, going along laboriously. A pilgrim, I trow,
or some such fool, with the nails of his boots inside
them. Too thin to be worth eating; but I will have him
for the fun of the thing; and most of those saints have
got money.'
With these words he stretched forth his legs on a
stool, and pointed the book of heathenish spells back
upwards at the pilgrim. Now this good pilgrim was
plodding along, soberly and religiously, with a pound
of flints in either boot, and not an ounce of meat
inside him. He felt the spell of the wicked book, but
only as a horse might feel a 'gee-wug!' addressed to
him. It was in the power of this good man, either to
go on, or turn aside, and see out the wizard's meaning.
And for a moment he halted and stood, like one in two
minds about a thing. Then the wizard clapped one cover
to, in a jocular and insulting manner; and the sound of
it came to the pilgrim's ear, about five miles in the
distance, like a great gun fired at him.
'By our Lady,' he cried, 'I must see to this; although
my poor feet have no skin below them. I will teach
this heathen miscreant how to scoff at Glastonbury.'
Thereupon he turned his course, and ploughed along
through the moors and bogs, towards the eight-sided
palace. The wizard sat on his chair of comfort, and
with the rankest contempt observed the holy man
ploughing towards him. 'He has something good in his
wallet, I trow,' said the black thief to himself;
'these fellows get always the pick of the wine, and the
best of a woman's money.' Then he cried, 'Come in,
come in, good sir,' as he always did to every one.
'Bad sir, I will not come in,' said the pilgrim;
'neither shall you come out again. Here are the bones
of all you have slain; and here shall your own bones
be.'
'Hurry me not,' cried the sorcerer; 'that is a thing to
think about. How many miles hast thou travelled this
day?'
But the pilgrim was too wide awake, for if he had
spoken of any number, bearing no cross upon it, the
necromancer would have had him, like a ball at
bando-play. Therefore he answered, as truly as need
be, 'By the grace of our Lady, nine.'
Now nine is the crossest of all cross numbers, and full
to the lip of all crochets. So the wizard staggered
back, and thought, and inquired again with bravery,
'Where can you find a man and wife, one going up-hill
and one going down, and not a word spoken between
them?'
'In a cucumber plant,' said the modest saint; blushing
even to think of it; and the wizard knew he was done
for.
'You have tried me with ungodly questions,' continued
the honest pilgrim, with one hand still over his eyes,
as he thought of the feminine cucumber; 'and now I will
ask you a pure one. To whom of mankind have you ever
done good, since God saw fit to make you?'
The wizard thought, but could quote no one; and he
looked at the saint, and the saint at him, and both
their hearts were trembling. 'Can you mention only
one?' asked the saint, pointing a piece of the true
cross at him, hoping he might cling to it; 'even a
little child will do; try to think of some one.'
The earth was rocking beneath their feet, and the
palace windows darkened on them, with a tint of blood,
for now the saint was come inside, hoping to save the
wizard.
'If I must tell the pure truth,' said the wizard,
looking up at the arches of his windows, 'I can tell of
only one to whom I ever have done good.'
'One will do; one is quite enough; be quick before the
ground opens. The name of one--and this cross will
save you. Lay your thumb on the end of it.'
'Nay, that I cannot do, great saint. The devil have
mercy upon me.'
All this while the palace was sinking, and blackness
coming over them.
'Thou hast all but done for thyself,' said the saint,
with a glory burning round his head; 'by that last
invocation. Yet give us the name of the one, my
friend, if one there be; it will save thee, with the
cross upon thy breast. All is crashing round us; dear
brother, who is that one?'
'My own self,' cried the wretched wizard.
'Then there is no help for thee.' And with that the
honest saint went upward, and the wizard, and all his
palace, and even the crag that bore it, sank to the
bowels of the earth; and over them was nothing left
except a black bog fringed with reed, of the tint of
the wizard's whiskers. The saint, however, was all
right, after sleeping off the excitement; and he
founded a chapel, some three miles westward; and there
he lies with his holy relic and thither in after ages
came (as we all come home at last) both my Lorna's Aunt
Sabina, and her guardian Ensor Doone.
While yet I dwelled upon this strange story, wondering
if it all were true, and why such things do not happen
now, a man on horseback appeared as suddenly as if he
had risen out of the earth, on the other side of the
great black slough. At first I was a little scared, my
mind being in the tune for wonders; but presently the
white hair, whiter from the blackness of the bog
between us, showed me that it was Uncle Reuben come to
look for me, that way. Then I left my chair of rock,
and waved my hat and shouted to him, and the sound of
my voice among the crags and lonely corners frightened
me.
Old Master Huckaback made no answer, but (so far as I
could guess) beckoned me to come to him. There was
just room between the fringe of reed and the belt of
rock around it, for a man going very carefully to
escape that horrible pit-hole. And so I went round to
the other side, and there found open space enough, with
stunted bushes, and starveling trees, and straggling
tufts of rushes.
'You fool, you are frightened,' said Uncle Ben, as he
looked at my face after shaking hands: 'I want a young
man of steadfast courage, as well as of strength and
silence. And after what I heard of the battle at Glen
Doone, I thought I might trust you for courage.'
'So you may,' said I, 'wherever I see mine enemy; but
not where witch and wizard be.'
'Tush, great fool!' cried Master Huckaback; 'the only
witch or wizard here is the one that bewitcheth all
men. Now fasten up my horse, John Ridd, and not too
near the slough, lad. Ah, we have chosen our entrance
wisely. Two good horsemen, and their horses, coming
hither to spy us out, are gone mining on their own
account (and their last account it is) down this good
wizard's bog-hole.'
With these words, Uncle Reuben clutched the mane of his
horse and came down, as a man does when his legs are
old; and as I myself begin to do, at this time of
writing. I offered a hand, but he was vexed, and would
have nought to do with it.
'Now follow me, step for step,' he said, when I had
tethered his horse to a tree; 'the ground is not death
(like the wizard's hole), but many parts are
treacherous, I know it well by this time.'
Without any more ado, he led me in and out the marshy
places, to a great round hole or shaft, bratticed up
with timber. I never had seen the like before, and
wondered how they could want a well, with so much water
on every side. Around the mouth were a few little
heaps of stuff unused to the daylight; and I thought at
once of the tales I had heard concerning mines in
Cornwall, and the silver cup at Combe-Martin, sent to
the Queen Elizabeth.
'We had a tree across it, John,' said Uncle Reuben,
smiling grimly at my sudden shrink from it: 'but some
rogue came spying here, just as one of our men went up.
He was frightened half out of his life, I believe, and
never ventured to come again. But we put the blame of
that upon you. And I see that we were wrong, John.'
Here he looked at me with keen eyes, though weak.
'You were altogether wrong,' I answered. 'Am I mean
enough to spy upon any one dwelling with us? And more
than that, Uncle Reuben, it was mean of you to suppose
it.'
'All ideas are different,' replied the old man to my
heat, like a little worn-out rill running down a
smithy; 'you with your strength and youth, and all
that, are inclined to be romantic. I take things as I
have known them, going on for seventy years. Now will
you come and meet the wizard, or does your courage fail
you?'
'My courage must be none,' said I, 'if I would not go
where you go, sir.'
He said no more, but signed to me to lift a heavy
wooden corb with an iron loop across it, and sunk in a
little pit of earth, a yard or so from the mouth of the
shaft. I raised it, and by his direction dropped it
into the throat of the shaft, where it hung and shook
from a great cross-beam laid at the level of the earth.
A very stout thick rope was fastened to the handle of
the corb, and ran across a pulley hanging from the
centre of the beam, and thence out of sight in the
nether places.
'I will first descend,' he said; 'your weight is too
great for safety. When the bucket comes up again,
follow me, if your heart is good.'
Then he whistled down, with a quick sharp noise, and a
whistle from below replied; and he clomb into the
vehicle, and the rope ran through the pulley, and Uncle
Ben went merrily down, and was out of sight, before I
had time to think of him.
Now being left on the bank like that, and in full sight
of the goodly heaven, I wrestled hard with my flesh and
blood, about going down into the pit-hole. And but for
the pale shame of the thing, that a white-headed man
should adventure so, and green youth doubt about it,
never could I have made up my mind; for I do love air
and heaven. However, at last up came the bucket; and
with a short sad prayer I went into whatever might
happen.
My teeth would chatter, do all I could; but the
strength of my arms was with me; and by them I held on
the grimy rope, and so eased the foot of the corb,
which threatened to go away fathoms under me. Of
course I should still have been safe enough, being like
an egg in an egg-cup, too big to care for the bottom;
still I wished that all should be done, in good order,
without excitement.
The scoopings of the side grew black, and the patch of
sky above more blue, as with many thoughts of Lorna, a
long way underground I sank. Then I was fetched up at
the bottom with a jerk and rattle; and but for holding
by the rope so, must have tumbled over. Two great
torches of bale-resin showed me all the darkness, one
being held by Uncle Ben and the other by a short square
man with a face which seemed well-known to me.
'Hail to the world of gold, John Ridd,' said Master
Huckaback, smiling in the old dry manner; 'bigger
coward never came down the shaft, now did he, Carfax?'
'They be all alike,' said the short square man, 'fust
time as they doos it.'
'May I go to heaven,' I cried, 'which is a thing quite
out of sight'--for I always have a vein of humour, too
small to be followed by any one--'if ever again of my
own accord I go so far away from it!' Uncle Ben grinned
less at this than at the way I knocked my shin in
getting out of the bucket; and as for Master Carfax, he
would not even deign to smile. And he seemed to look
upon my entrance as an interloping.
For my part, I had nought to do, after rubbing my
bruised leg, except to look about me, so far as the
dullness of light would help. And herein I seemed,
like a mouse in a trap, able no more than to run to and
fro, and knock himself, and stare at things. For here
was a little channel grooved with posts on either side
of it, and ending with a heap of darkness, whence the
sight came back again; and there was a scooped place,
like a funnel, but pouring only to darkness. So I
waited for somebody to speak first, not seeing my way
to anything.'
'You seem to be disappointed, John,' said Uncle Reuben,
looking blue by the light of the flambeaux; 'did you
expect to see the roof of gold, and the sides of gold,
and the floor of gold, John Ridd?'
'Ha, ha!' cried Master Carfax; 'I reckon her did; no
doubt her did.'
'You are wrong,' I replied; 'but I did expect to see
something better than dirt and darkness.'
'Come on then, my lad; and we will show you some-thing
better. We want your great arm on here, for a job that
has beaten the whole of us.'
With these words, Uncle Ben led the way along a narrow
passage, roofed with rock and floored with
slate-coloured shale and shingle, and winding in and
out, until we stopped at a great stone block or
boulder, lying across the floor, and as large as my
mother's best oaken wardrobe. Beside it were several
sledge-hammers, battered, and some with broken helves.
'Thou great villain!' cried Uncle Ben, giving the
boulder a little kick; 'I believe thy time is come at
last. Now, John, give us a sample of the things they
tell of thee. Take the biggest of them sledge-hammers
and crack this rogue in two for us. We have tried at
him for a fortnight, and he is a nut worth cracking.
But we have no man who can swing that hammer, though
all in the mine have handled it.'
'I will do my very best,' said I, pulling off my coat
and waistcoat, as if I were going to wrestle; 'but I
fear he will prove too tough for me.'
'Ay, that her wull,' grunted Master Carfax; 'lack'th a
Carnishman, and a beg one too, not a little charp such
as I be. There be no man outside Carnwall, as can
crack that boolder.'
'Bless my heart,' I answered; 'but I know something of
you, my friend, or at any rate of your family. Well, I
have beaten most of your Cornish men, though not my
place to talk of it. But mind, if I crack this rock
for you, I must have some of the gold inside it.'
'Dost think to see the gold come tumbling out like the
kernel of a nut, thou zany?' asked Uncle Reuben
pettishly; 'now wilt thou crack it or wilt thou not?
For I believe thou canst do it, though only a lad of
Somerset.'
Uncle Reuben showed by saying this, and by his glance
at Carfax, that he was proud of his county, and would
be disappointed for it if I failed to crack the
boulder. So I begged him to stoop his torch a little,
that I might examine my subject. To me there appeared
to be nothing at all remarkable about it, except that
it sparkled here and there, when the flash of the flame
fell upon it. A great obstinate, oblong, sullen
stone; how could it be worth the breaking, except for
making roads with?
Nevertheless, I took up the hammer, and swinging it far
behind my head, fetched it down, with all my power,
upon the middle of the rock. The roof above rang
mightily, and the echo went down delven galleries, so
that all the miners flocked to know what might be
doing. But Master Carfax only smiled, although the
blow shook him where he stood, for behold the stone was
still unbroken, and as firm as ever. Then I smote it
again, with no better fortune, and Uncle Ben looked
vexed and angry, but all the miners grinned with
triumph.
'This little tool is too light,' I cried; 'one of you
give me a piece of strong cord.'
Then I took two more of the weightiest hammers, and
lashed them fast to the back of mine, not so as to
strike, but to burden the fall. Having made this firm,
and with room to grasp the handle of the largest one
only--for the helves of the others were shorter--I
smiled at Uncle Ben, and whirled the mighty implement
round my head, just to try whether I could manage it.
Upon that the miners gave a cheer, being honest men,
and desirous of seeing fair play between this
'shameless stone' (as Dan Homer calls it) and me with
my hammer hammering.
Then I swung me on high to the swing of the sledge, as
a thresher bends back to the rise of his flail, and
with all my power descending delivered the ponderous
onset. Crashing and crushed the great stone fell over,
and threads of sparkling gold appeared in the jagged
sides of the breakage.
'How now, Simon Carfax?' cried Uncle Ben triumphantly;
'wilt thou find a man in Cornwall can do the like of
that?'
'Ay, and more,' he answered; 'however, it be pretty
fair for a lad of these outlandish parts. Get your
rollers, my lads, and lead it to the crushing engine.'
I was glad to have been of some service to them; for it
seems that this great boulder had been too large to be
drawn along the gallery and too hard to crack. But now
they moved it very easily, taking piece by piece, and
carefully picking up the fragments.
'Thou hast done us a good turn, my lad,' said Uncle
Reuben, as the others passed out of sight at the
corner; 'and now I will show thee the bottom of a very
wondrous mystery. But we must not do it more than
once, for the time of day is the wrong one.'
The whole affair being a mystery to me, and far beyond
my understanding, I followed him softly, without a
word, yet thinking very heavily, and longing to be
above ground again. He led me through small passages,
to a hollow place near the descending shaft, where I
saw a most extraordinary monster fitted up. In form it
was like a great coffee-mill, such as I had seen in
London, only a thousand times larger, and with heavy
windlass to work it.
'Put in a barrow-load of the smoulder,' said Uncle Ben
to Carfax, 'and let them work the crank, for John to
understand a thing or two.'
'At this time of day!' cried Simon Carfax; 'and the
watching as has been o' late!'
However, he did it without more remonstrance; pouring
into the scuttle at the top of the machine about a
baskeful of broken rock; and then a dozen men went to
the wheel, and forced it round, as sailors do. Upon
that such a hideous noise arose, as I never should have
believed any creature capable of making, and I ran to
the well of the mine for air, and to ease my ears, if
possible.
'Enough, enough!' shouted Uncle Ben by the time I was
nearly deafened; 'we will digest our goodly boulder
after the devil is come abroad for his evening work.
Now, John, not a word about what you have learned; but
henceforth you will not be frightened by the noise we
make at dusk.'
I could not deny but what this was very clever
management. If they could not keep the echoes of the
upper air from moving, the wisest plan was to open
their valves during the discouragement of the falling
evening; when folk would rather be driven away, than
drawn into the wilds and quagmires, by a sound so deep
and awful, coming through the darkness.
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