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CHAPTER LXXII
THE COUNSELLOR AND THE CARVER
From that great confusion--for nothing can be broken
up, whether lawful or unlawful, without a vast amount
of dust, and many people grumbling, and mourning for
the good old times, when all the world was happiness,
and every man a gentleman, and the sun himself far
brighter than since the brassy idol upon which he shone
was broken--from all this loss of ancient landmarks (as
unrobbed men began to call our clearance of those
murderers) we returned on the following day, almost as
full of anxiety as we were of triumph. In the first
place, what could we possibly do with all these women
and children, thrown on our hands as one might say,
with none to protect and care for them? Again how
should we answer to the justices of the peace, or
perhaps even to Lord Jeffreys, for having, without even
a warrant, taken the law into our own hands, and abated
our nuisance so forcibly? And then, what was to be
done with the spoil, which was of great value; though
the diamond necklace came not to public light? For we
saw a mighty host of claimants already leaping up for
booty. Every man who had ever been robbed, expected
usury on his loss; the lords of the manors demanded the
whole; and so did the King's Commissioner of revenue at
Porlock; and so did the men who had fought our battle;
while even the parsons, both Bowden and Powell, and
another who had no parish in it, threatened us with the
just wrath of the Church, unless each had tithes of the
whole of it.
Now this was not as it ought to be; and it seemed as if
by burning the nest of robbers, we had but hatched
their eggs; until being made sole guardian of the
captured treasure (by reason of my known honesty) I hit
upon a plan, which gave very little satisfaction; yet
carried this advantage, that the grumblers argued
against one another and for the most part came to
blows; which renewed their goodwill to me, as being
abused by the adversary.
And my plan was no more than this--not to pay a
farthing to lord of manor, parson, or even King's
Commissioner, but after making good some of the recent
and proven losses--where the men could not afford to
lose--to pay the residue (which might be worth some
fifty thousand pounds) into the Exchequer at
Westminster; and then let all the claimants file what
wills they pleased in Chancery.
Now this was a very noble device, for the mere name of
Chancery, and the high repute of the fees therein, and
low repute of the lawyers, and the comfortable
knowledge that the woolsack itself is the golden
fleece, absorbing gold for ever, if the standard be but
pure; consideration of these things staved off at once
the lords of the manors, and all the little farmers,
and even those whom most I feared; videlicet, the
parsons. And the King's Commissioner was compelled to
profess himself contented, although of all he was most
aggrieved; for his pickings would have been goodly.
Moreover, by this plan I made--although I never thought
of that--a mighty friend worth all the enemies, whom
the loss of money moved. The first man now in the
kingdom (by virtue perhaps of energy, rather than of
excellence) was the great Lord Jeffreys, appointed the
head of the Equity, as well as the law of the realm,
for his kindness in hanging five hundred people,
without the mere brief of trial. Nine out of ten of
these people were innocent, it was true; but that
proved the merit of the Lord Chief Justice so much the
greater for hanging them, as showing what might be
expected of him, when he truly got hold of a guilty
man. Now the King had seen the force of this argument;
and not being without gratitude for a high-seasoned
dish of cruelty, had promoted the only man in England,
combining the gifts of both butcher and cook.
Nevertheless, I do beg you all to believe of me--and I
think that, after following me so long, you must
believe it--that I did not even know at the time of
Lord Jeffreys's high promotion. Not that my knowledge
of this would have led me to act otherwise in the
matter; for my object was to pay into an office, and
not to any official; neither if I had known the fact,
could I have seen its bearing upon the receipt of my
money. For the King's Exchequer is, meseemeth, of the
Common Law; while Chancery is of Equity, and well named
for its many chances. But the true result of the thing
was this--Lord Jeffreys being now head of the law, and
almost head of the kingdom, got possession of that
money, and was kindly pleased with it.
And this met our second difficulty; for the law having
won and laughed over the spoil, must have injured its
own title by impugning our legality.
Next, with regard to the women and children, we were
long in a state of perplexity. We did our very best at
the farm, and so did many others to provide for them,
until they should manage about their own subsistence.
And after a while this trouble went, as nearly all
troubles go with time. Some of the women were taken
back by their parents, or their husbands, or it may be
their sweethearts; and those who failed of this, went
forth, some upon their own account to the New World
plantations, where the fairer sex is valuable; and some
to English cities; and the plainer ones to field work.
And most of the children went with their mothers, or
were bound apprentices; only Carver Doone's handsome
child had lost his mother and stayed with me.
This boy went about with me everywhere. He had taken
as much of liking to me--first shown in his eyes by the
firelight--as his father had of hatred; and I,
perceiving his noble courage, scorn of lies, and high
spirit, became almost as fond of Ensie as he was of me.
He told us that his name was 'Ensie,' meant for
'Ensor,' I suppose, from his father's grandfather, the
old Sir Ensor Doone. And this boy appeared to be
Carver's heir, having been born in wedlock, contrary to
the general manner and custom of the Doones.
However, although I loved the poor child, I could not
help feeling very uneasy about the escape of his
father, the savage and brutal Carver. This man was
left to roam the country, homeless, foodless, and
desperate, with his giant strength, and great skill in
arms, and the whole world to be revenged upon. For his
escape the miners, as I shall show, were answerable;
but of the Counsellor's safe departure the burden lay
on myself alone. And inasmuch as there are people who
consider themselves ill-used, unless one tells them
everything, straitened though I am for space, I will
glance at this transaction.
After the desperate charge of young Doones had been met
by us, and broken, and just as Poor Kit Badcock died in
the arms of the dead Charley, I happened to descry a
patch of white on the grass of the meadow, like the
head of a sheep after washing-day. Observing with some
curiosity how carefully this white thing moved along
the bars of darkness betwixt the panels of firelight, I
ran up to intercept it, before it reached the little
postern which we used to call Gwenny's door.
Perceiving me, the white thing stopped, and was for
making back again; but I ran up at full speed; and lo,
it was the flowing silvery hair of that sage the
Counsellor, who was scuttling away upon all fours; but
now rose and confronted me.
'John,' he said, 'Sir John, you will not play falsely
with your ancient friend, among these violent fellows,
I look to you to protect me, John.'
'Honoured sir, you are right,' I replied; 'but surely
that posture was unworthy of yourself, and your many
resources. It is my intention to let you go free.'
'I knew it. I could have sworn to it. You are a noble
fellow, John. I said so, from the very first; you are
a noble fellow, and an ornament to any rank.'
'But upon two conditions,' I added, gently taking him
by the arm; for instead of displaying any desire to
commune with my nobility, he was edging away toward the
postern; 'the first is that you tell me truly (for now
it can matter to none of you) who it was that slew my
father.'
'I will tell you truly and frankly, John; however
painful to me to confess it. It was my son, Carver.'
'I thought as much, or I felt as much all along,' I
answered; 'but the fault was none of yours, sir; for
you were not even present.'
'If I had been there, it would not have happened. I am
always opposed to violence. Therefore, let me haste
away; this scene is against my nature.'
'You shall go directly, Sir Counsellor, after meeting
my other condition; which is, that you place in my
hands Lady Lorna's diamond necklace.'
'Ah, how often I have wished,' said the old man with a
heavy sigh, 'that it might yet be in my power to ease
my mind in that respect, and to do a thoroughly good
deed by lawful restitution.'
'Then try to have it in your power, sir. Surely, with
my encouragement, you might summon resolution.'
'Alas, John, the resolution has been ready long ago.
But the thing is not in my possession. Carver, my son,
who slew your father, upon him you will find the
necklace. What are jewels to me, young man, at my time
of life? Baubles and trash,--I detest them, from the
sins they have led me to answer for. When you come to
my age, good Sir John, you will scorn all jewels, and
care only for a pure and bright conscience. Ah! ah!
Let me go. I have made my peace with God.'
He looked so hoary, and so silvery, and serene in the
moonlight, that verily I must have believed him, if he
had not drawn in his breast. But I happened to have
noticed that when an honest man gives vent to noble and
great sentiments, he spreads his breast, and throws it
out, as if his heart were swelling; whereas I had seen
this old gentleman draw in his breast more than once,
as if it happened to contain better goods than
sentiment.
'Will you applaud me, kind sir,' I said, keeping him
very tight, all the while, 'if I place it in your power
to ratify your peace with God? The pledge is upon your
heart, no doubt, for there it lies at this moment.'
With these words, and some apology for having recourse
to strong measures, I thrust my hand inside his
waistcoat, and drew forth Lorna's necklace, purely
sparkling in the moonlight, like the dancing of new
stars. The old man made a stab at me, with a knife
which I had not espied; but the vicious onset failed;
and then he knelt, and clasped his hands.
'Oh, for God's sake, John, my son, rob me not in that
manner. They belong to me; and I love them so; I
would give almost my life for them. There is one jewel
I can look at for hours, and see all the lights of
heaven in it; which I never shall see elsewhere. All
my wretched, wicked life--oh, John, I am a sad
hypocrite--but give me back my jewels. Or else kill me
here; I am a babe in your hands; but I must have back
my jewels.'
As his beautiful white hair fell away from his noble
forehead, like a silver wreath of glory, and his
powerful face, for once, was moved with real emotion, I
was so amazed and overcome by the grand contradictions
of nature, that verily I was on the point of giving him
back the necklace. But honesty, which is said to be
the first instinct of all the Ridds (though I myself
never found it so), happened here to occur to me, and
so I said, without more haste than might be expected,--
'Sir Counsellor, I cannot give you what does not belong
to me. But if you will show me that particular
diamond which is heaven to you, I will take upon myself
the risk and the folly of cutting it out for you. And
with that you must go contented; and I beseech you not
to starve with that jewel upon your lips.'
Seeing no hope of better terms, he showed me his pet
love of a jewel; and I thought of what Lorna was to me,
as I cut it out (with the hinge of my knife severing
the snakes of gold) and placed it in his careful hand.
Another moment, and he was gone, and away through
Gwenny's postern; and God knows what became of him.
Now as to Carver, the thing was this--so far as I could
ascertain from the valiant miners, no two of whom told
the same story, any more than one of them told it
twice. The band of Doones which sallied forth for the
robbery of the pretended convoy was met by Simon
Carfax, according to arrangement, at the ruined house
called The Warren, in that part of Bagworthy Forest
where the river Exe (as yet a very small stream) runs
through it. The Warren, as all our people know, had
belonged to a fine old gentleman, whom every one called
'The Squire,' who had retreated from active life to
pass the rest of his days in fishing, and shooting, and
helping his neighbours. For he was a man of some
substance; and no poor man ever left The Warren without
a bag of good victuals, and a few shillings put in his
pocket. However, this poor Squire never made a greater
mistake, than in hoping to end his life peacefully upon
the banks of a trout-stream, and in the green forest of
Bagworthy. For as he came home from the brook at
dusk, with his fly-rod over his shoulder, the Doones
fell upon him, and murdered him, and then sacked his
house, and burned it.
Now this had made honest people timid about going past
The Warren at night; for, of course, it was said that
the old Squire 'walked,' upon certain nights of the
moon, in and out of the trunks of trees, on the green
path from the river. On his shoulder he bore a
fishing-rod, and his book of trout-flies, in one hand,
and on his back a wicker-creel; and now and then he
would burst out laughing to think of his coming so near
the Doones.
And now that one turns to consider it, this seems a
strangely righteous thing, that the scene of one of the
greatest crimes even by Doones committed should, after
twenty years, become the scene of vengeance falling
(like hail from heaven) upon them. For although The
Warren lies well away to the westward of the mine; and
the gold, under escort to Bristowe, or London, would
have gone in the other direction; Captain Carfax,
finding this place best suited for working of his
design, had persuaded the Doones, that for reasons of
Government, the ore must go first to Barnstaple for
inspection, or something of that sort. And as every
one knows that our Government sends all things westward
when eastward bound, this had won the more faith for
Simon, as being according to nature.
Now Simon, having met these flowers of the flock of
villainy, where the rising moonlight flowed through the
weir-work of the wood, begged them to dismount; and led
them with an air of mystery into the Squire's ruined
hall, black with fire, and green with weeds.
'Captain, I have found a thing,' he said to Carver
Doone, himself, 'which may help to pass the hour, ere
the lump of gold comes by. The smugglers are a noble
race; but a miner's eyes are a match for them. There
lies a puncheon of rare spirit, with the Dutchman's
brand upon it, hidden behind the broken hearth. Set a
man to watch outside; and let us see what this be
like.'
With one accord they agreed to this, and Carver pledged
Master Carfax, and all the Doones grew merry. But
Simon being bound, as he said, to see to their strict
sobriety, drew a bucket of water from the well into
which they had thrown the dead owner, and begged them
to mingle it with their drink; which some of them did,
and some refused.
But the water from that well was poured, while they
were carousing, into the priming-pan of every gun of
theirs; even as Simon had promised to do with the guns
of the men they were come to kill. Then just as the
giant Carver arose, with a glass of pure hollands in
his hand, and by the light of the torch they had
struck, proposed the good health of the Squire's
ghost--in the broken doorway stood a press of men, with
pointed muskets, covering every drunken Doone. How it
fared upon that I know not, having none to tell me; for
each man wrought, neither thought of telling, nor
whether he might be alive to tell. The Doones rushed
to their guns at once, and pointed them, and pulled at
them; but the Squire's well had drowned their fire; and
then they knew that they were betrayed, but resolved to
fight like men for it. Upon fighting I can never
dwell; it breeds such savage delight in me; of which I
would fain have less. Enough that all the Doones
fought bravely; and like men (though bad ones) died in
the hall of the man they had murdered. And with them
died poor young De Whichehalse, who, in spite of his
good father's prayers, had cast in his lot with the
robbers. Carver Doone alone escaped. Partly through
his fearful strength, and his yet more fearful face;
but mainly perhaps through his perfect coolness, and
his mode of taking things.
I am happy to say that no more than eight of the
gallant miners were killed in that combat, or died of
their wounds afterwards; and adding to these the eight
we had lost in our assault on the valley (and two of
them excellent warehousemen), it cost no more than
sixteen lives to be rid of nearly forty Doones, each of
whom would most likely have killed three men in the
course of a year or two. Therefore, as I said at the
time, a great work was done very reasonably; here were
nigh upon forty Doones destroyed (in the valley, and up
at The Warrens) despite their extraordinary strength
and high skill in gunnery; whereas of us ignorant
rustics there were only sixteen to be counted
dead--though others might be lamed, or so,--and of
those sixteen only two had left wives, and their wives
did not happen to care for them.
Yet, for Lorna' s sake, I was vexed at the bold escape
of Carver. Not that I sought for Carver's life, any
more than I did for the Counsellor's; but that for us
it was no light thing, to have a man of such power, and
resource, and desperation, left at large and furious,
like a famished wolf round the sheepfold. Yet greatly
as I blamed the yeomen, who were posted on their
horses, just out of shot from the Doone-gate, for the
very purpose of intercepting those who escaped the
miners, I could not get them to admit that any blame
attached to them.
But lo, he had dashed through the whole of them, with
his horse at full gallop; and was nearly out of shot
before they began to think of shooting him. Then it
appears from what a boy said--for boys manage to be
everywhere--that Captain Carver rode through the
Doone-gate, and so to the head of the valley. There,
of course, he beheld all the houses, and his own among
the number, flaming with a handsome blaze, and throwing
a fine light around such as he often had revelled in,
when of other people's property. But he swore the
deadliest of all oaths, and seeing himself to be
vanquished (so far as the luck of the moment went),
spurred his great black horse away, and passed into the
darkness.
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