Freaks on the Fells: Three Months' Rustication

“Come, I’ll help you to pull it out.”

“Oh! that’s not what troubles me. But after we get it out what’s to be done?”

“Jack,” said I, seriously, “one thing at a time. When we get you out, then it will be time enough to inquire what to do next.”

“That’s sound philosophy, Bob; where did you pick it up? I suspect you must have been studying Shakespeare of late, on the sly. But come, get behind me, and put your hands under my arms, and heave; I’ll shove with my sound limb. Now let us act together. Stay! Bob, we’ve been long enough aboard ship to know the value of a song in producing unity of action. Take the tune from me.”

Suiting the action to the word, Jack gave forth, at the top of his voice, one or two of those peculiarly nautical howls wherewith seamen are wont to constrain windlasses and capstans to creak, and anchors to let go their hold.

“Now then, heave away, my hearties; yo-heave-o-hoi!”

At the last word we both strained with all our might. I heard Jack’s braces burst with the effort. We both became purple in the face, but the leg remained immovable! With a loud simultaneous sigh we relaxed, and looking at each other groaned slightly.

“Come, come, Bob, never say die; one trial more; it was the braces that spoiled it that time. Now then, cheerily ho! my hearties, heave-yo-hee-o-Hoy!”

The united force applied this time was so great that we tore asunder all the fastenings of the leg at one wrench, and Jack and I suddenly shot straight up as if we had been discharged from a hole in the ground. Losing our balance we fell over each other on our backs—the wooden leg remaining hard and fast in the ground.

“Ah! Jack,” said I sorrowfully, as I rubbed the mud off my garments, “if we had remained at home this would not have happened.”

“If we had remained at home,” returned Jack, rather gruffly, as he hopped towards his leg, “nothing would have happened. Come, Bob, lay hold of it. Out it shall come, if the inside of the world should come along with it. There now—heave!”

This time we gave vent to no shout, but we hove with such a will, that Jack split his jacket from the waist to the neck, and the leg came out with a crack that resembled the drawing of the largest possible cork out of the biggest conceivable bottle.

Having accomplished this feat we congratulated each other, and then sat down to repair damages. This was not an easy matter. It cost us no little thought to invent some contrivance that would prevent the leg from sinking, but at last we thought of a plan. We cut a square piece of bark off a tree, the outer rind of which was peculiarly tough and thick. In the centre of this we scooped a hole and inserted therein the end of the leg, fastening it thereto with pieces of twine that we chanced to have in our pockets. Thus we made, as it were, an artificial foot, which when Jack tried it served its purpose admirably—indeed, it acted too well, for being a broad base it did not permit the wooden leg to sink at all, while the natural leg did sink more or less, and, as the wooden limb had no knee, it was stiff from hip to heel, and could not bend, so that I had to walk behind my poor comrade, and when I observed him get somewhat into the position of the Leaning Tower of Pisa I sprang forward and supported him.

Thus we proceeded slowly through the forest, stumbling frequently, tumbling occasionally, and staggering oft; but strange to say, without either of us having any very definite idea of where we were going, or what we expected to find, or why we went in one direction more than another. In fact, we proceeded on that eminently simple principle which is couched in the well-known and time-honoured phrase, “follow your nose.”

True, once I ventured to ask my companion where he thought we were going, to which he replied, much to my surprise, that he didn’t know and didn’t care; that it was quite certain if we did not go forward we could not expect to get on, and that in the ordinary course of things if we proceeded we should undoubtedly come to something. To this I replied, in a meditative tone, that there was much truth in the observation, and that, at any rate, if we did not come to something, something would certainly come to us.

But we did not pursue the subject. In fact, we were too much taken up with the interesting and amusing sights that met our gaze in that singular forest; insomuch that on several occasions I neglected my peculiar duty of watching Jack, and was only made aware of my carelessness by hearing him shout, “Hallo! Bob, look alive!—I’m over!” when I would suddenly drop my eyes from the contemplation of the plumage of a parrot or the antics of a monkey, to behold my friend leaning over at an angle of “forty-five.” To leap forward and catch him in my arms was the work of an instant. On each of these occasions, after setting him upright, I used to give him a tender hug, to indicate my regret at having been so inattentive, and my sympathy with him in his calamitous circumstances.

Poor Jack was very gentle and uncomplaining. He even made light of his misfortune, and laughed a good deal at himself; but I could see, nevertheless, that his spirits were at times deeply affected, in spite of his brave efforts to bear up and appear gay and cheerful.

Story 2—Chapter 8

It was evening when we were cast ashore in this new country, so that we had not advanced far into the forest before night closed in and compelled us to halt; for, had we continued our journey in the dark, we should certainly have been drowned in one of the many deep morasses which abounded there, and which we had found it difficult to steer clear of, even in daylight.

As the moon arose and the stars began to glimmer in the sky, I observed, to my dismay, that all kinds of noxious creatures and creeping things began to move about, and strange hissing sounds and low dismal hootings and wails were heard at times indistinctly, as if the place were the abode of evil spirits, who were about to wake up to indulge in their midnight orgies.

“Oh! Jack,” said I, shuddering violently, as I stopped and seized my companion by the arm. “I can’t tell what it is that fills me with an unaccountable sensation of dread. I—I feel as if we should never more get out of this horrible swamp, or see again the blessed light of day. See! see! what horrid creature is that?”

“Pooh! man,” interrupted Jack, with a degree of levity in his tone which surprised me much. “It’s only a serpent. All these kind o’ things are regular cowards. Only let them alone and they’re sure to let you alone. I should like above all things to tickle up one o’ these brutes, and let him have a bite at my wooden toe! It would be rare fun, wouldn’t it, Bob, eh? Come, let us push on, and see that you keep me straight, old fellow!”

I made no reply for some time. I was horrified at my comrade’s levity in such circumstances. Then, as I heard him continue to chuckle and remark in an undertone on the surprise the serpent would get on discovering the exceeding toughness of his toe, it for the first time flashed across my mind that his sufferings had deranged my dear companion’s intellect.

The bare probability of such a dreadful calamity was sufficient to put to flight all my previous terrors. I now cared nothing whatever for the loathsome reptiles that wallowed in the swamps around me, and the quiet glidings and swelterings of whose hideous forms were distinctly audible in the stillness of approaching night. My whole anxiety was centred on Jack. I thought that if I could prevail on him to rest he might recover, and proposed that we should encamp; but he would not hear of this. He kept plunging on, staggering through brake and swamp, reedy pond and quaking morass, until I felt myself utterly unable to follow him a step farther.

Just at this point Jack stopped abruptly and said—

“Bob, my boy, we’ll camp here.”

It was a fearful spot. Dark, dismal, and not a square foot of dry ground.

“Here, Jack?”

“Ay, here.”

“But it’s—it’s all wet. Excuse me, my dear comrade, I’ve not yet acquired the habit of sleeping in water.”

“No more have I, Bob; we shall sleep on a fallen tree, my boy. Did you never hear of men sleeping in a swamp on the top of a log? It’s often done, I assure you, and I mean to do it to-night. See, here is a good large one, three feet broad by twenty feet long, with lots of stumps of broken branches to keep us from rolling off. Come, let’s begin.”

We immediately began to make our arrangements for the night. With the aid of our clasp-knives we cut a quantity of leafy branches, and spread them on the trunk of a huge prostrated tree, the half of which was sunk in the swamp, but the other half was sufficiently elevated to raise us well out of the water. The bed was more comfortable than one would suppose; and, being very tired, we lay down on it as soon as it was made, and tried to sleep: having nothing to eat, we thought it well to endeavour to obtain all the refreshment we could out of sleep.

We had not lain long, when I started up in a fright, and cried—

“Hallo! Jack, what’s that? See, through the reeds; it creeps slowly. Oh; horror! it comes towards us!”

Jack looked at it sleepily. “It’s an alligator,” said he. “If it approaches too close, just wake me; but, pray, don’t keep howling at every thing that comes to peep at us.”

Just at that moment, the hideous reptile drew near, and, opening its jaws, let them come together with a snap! Even Jack was not proof against this. He started up, and looked about for a defensive weapon. We had nothing but our clasp-knives. The alligator wallowed towards us.

“Oh for an axe!” gasped Jack.

The brute was within a few yards of us now. I was transfixed with horror. Suddenly an idea occurred to me.

“Your leg, Jack, your leg!”

He understood me. One sweep of his clasp-knife cut all the fastenings—the next moment he grasped the toe in both hands, and, swaying the heavy butt of the limb in the air, brought it down with all his force on the skull of the alligator. It rang like the sound of a blow on an empty cask. Again the limb was swayed aloft, and descended with extraordinary violence on the extreme point of the alligator’s snout. There was a loud crash, as if of small bones being driven in. The animal paused, put its head on one side, and turning slowly round waddled away into the noisome recesses of its native swamp.

Scarcely had we recovered from the effects of this, when we heard in the distance shouts and yells and the barking of dogs. Crouching in our nest we listened intently. The sounds approached, but while those who made them were yet at some distance we were startled by the sudden approach of a dark object, running at full speed. It seemed like a man, or rather a huge ape, for it was black, and as it came tearing towards us, running on its hind-legs, we could see its eyes glaring in the moonlight, and could hear its labouring breath. It was evidently hard pressed by its pursuers, for it did not see what lay before it, and had well-nigh run over our couch ere it observed Jack standing on one leg, with the other limb raised in a threatening attitude above his head. It was too late to turn to avoid the blow.

Uttering a terrible cry the creature fell on its knees, and, trembling violently, cried—

“Oh, massa! oh, massa, spare me! Me no runaway agin. Mercy, massa! mercy!”

“Silence, you noisy villain,” cried Jack, seizing the negro by the hair of the head.

“Yis, massa,” gasped the man, while his teeth chattered and the whites of his eyes rolled fearfully.

“What are you? Where d’ye come from? Who’s after ye?”

To these abrupt questions, the poor negro replied as briefly, that he was a runaway slave, and that his master and bloodhounds were after him.

We had guessed as much, and the deep baying of the hounds convinced us of the truth of his statement.

“Quick,” cried Jack, dragging the black to the edge of our log, “get under there; lie flat; keep still;” so saying he thrust the negro under the branches that formed our couch. We covered him well up and then sat down on him. Before we had well finished our task the foremost of the bloodhounds came bounding towards us, with its eyeballs glaring and its white fangs glittering in the dim light like glow-worms in a blood-red cavern. It made straight for the spot where the negro was concealed, and would have seized him in another instant, had not Jack, with one blow of his leg, beat in its skull.

“Shove him out of sight, Bob.”

I seized the dead hound and obeyed, while my comrade prepared to receive the second dog. But that animal seemed more timid. It swerved as the blow was delivered, received on its haunches, and fled away howling in another direction.

Jack at once laid down his leg and sat down on the negro, motioning me to do the same. Then pulling an old tobacco-pipe out of his pocket, he affected to be calmly employed in filling it when the pursuers came up. There were two of them, in straw hats and nankeen pantaloons, armed with cudgels, and a more ruffianly pair of villains I never saw before or since.

“Hallo! strangers,” cried one, as they halted for a few moments on observing us. “Queer place to camp. Fond o’ water and dirt, I guess?”

“You seem fond o’ dirt and not o’ water, to judge from your faces,” replied Jack, calmly, attempting to light his pipe, which was rather a difficult operation, seeing that it was empty and he had no fire. “Ah! my light’s out. Could you lend us a match, friend?”

“No, we can’t. No time. Hain’t got none. Did you see a nigger pass this way?”

“Ha! you’re after him, are you?” cried Jack, indignantly. “Do you suppose I’d tell you if I did? Go and find him for yourselves.”

The two men frowned fiercely at this, and appeared about to attack us. But they changed their minds, and said, “Mayhap you’ll tell us if ye saw two hounds, then?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Which way did they pass?”

“They haven’t passed yet,” replied Jack, with deep sarcasm, at the same time quietly lifting his leg, and swaying it gently to and fro; “whether they’ll pass without a licking remains to be seen.”

“Look ’ee, lads, we’ll pay you for this,” shouted the men as they turned away. “We’ve not time to waste now, but we’ll come back.”

I remonstrated with my friend. “You’re too rash, Jack.”

“Why? We don’t need to fear two men!”

“Ay, but there may be more in the woods.”

My surmise was correct. Half an hour after, the hound was heard returning. It came straight at us, followed by at least a dozen men. Jack killed the dog with one blow, and felled the first man that came up, but we were overwhelmed by numbers, and, in a much shorter time than it takes to tell it, both of us were knocked into the mud and rendered insensible.

Story 2—Chapter 9

On recovering from the stunning effects of the blow that had felled me, I found myself lying on a hard earthen floor, surrounded by deep impenetrable darkness.

“Are you there, Jack?” I sighed faintly.

“Ay, Bob, I’m here—at least, all o’ me that’s left. I confess to you that I do feel a queer sensation, as if the one half of my head were absent and the other half a-wanting, while the brain lies exposed to the atmosphere. But I suppose that’s impossible.”

“Where are we, Jack?”

“We’re in an outhouse, in the hands of planters; so I made out by what I heard them say when I got my senses back; but I’ve no notion of what part o’ the world we’re in. Moreover, I don’t care. A man with only one leg, no head, and an exposed brain, isn’t worth caring about. I don’t care for him—not a button.”

“Oh, Jack, dear, don’t speak like that—I can’t stand it.”

“You’re lying down, ain’t you?” inquired Jack.

“Yes.”

“Then how d’you know whether you can stand it or not?”

I was so overcome, and, to say the truth, surprised, at my companion’s recklessness, that I could not reply. I lay motionless on the hard ground, meditating on our forlorn situation, when my thoughts were interrupted by the grating sound of a key turning in a lock. The door of the hut opened, and four men entered, each bearing a torch, which cast a brilliant glare over the hovel in which we were confined. There was almost nothing to be seen in the place. It was quite empty. The only peculiar thing that I observed about it was a thick post, with iron hooks fixed in it, which rose from the centre of the floor to the rafters, against which it was nailed. There were also a few strange-looking implements hanging round the walls, but I could not at first make out what these were intended for. I now perceived that Jack and I were chained to the wall.

Going to the four corners of the apartment, the four men placed their four torches in four stands that seemed made for the purpose, and then, approaching us, ranged themselves in a row before us. Two of them I recognised as being the men we had first seen in the swamp; the other two were strangers.

“So, my bucks,” began one of the former,—a hideous-looking man, whose personal appearance was by no means improved by a closed eye, a flattened nose, and a swelled cheek, the result of Jack’s first flourish of his wooden leg,—“so, we’ve got you, have we? The hounds have got you, eh?”

“So it appears,” replied Jack, in a tone of quiet contempt, as he sat on the ground with his back leaning against the wall, his hands clasped above his solitary knee, and his thumbs revolving round each other slowly. “I say,” continued Jack, an expression of concern crossed his handsome countenance, “I’m afraid you’re damaged, rather, about your head-piece. Your eye seems a little out of order, and, pardon me, but your nose is a little too flat—just a little. My poor fellow, I’m quite sorry for you; I really am, though you are a dog.”

The man opened his solitary eye and stared with amazement at Jack, who smiled, and, putting his head a little to the other side, returned the stare with interest.

“You’re a bold fellow,” said the man, on recovering a little from his surprise.

“I’m sorry,” retorted Jack, “that I cannot return you the compliment.”

I was horrified. I saw that my poor friend, probably under the influence of madness, had made up his mind to insult and defy our captors to their teeth, regardless of consequences. I tried to speak, but my lips refused their office. The man grinned horribly and gnashed his teeth, while the others made as though they would rush upon us and tear us limb from limb. But their chief, for such the spokesman seemed to be, restrained them.

“Hah!” he gasped, looking fiercely at Jack, and at the same time pointing to the implements on the wall, “d’ye see these things?”

“Not being quite so blind as you are, I do.”

“D’ye know what they’re for?”

“Not being a demon, which you seem to be, I don’t.”

“Hah! these—are,” (he spoke very slowly, and hissed the words out between his teeth),—“torterers!”

“What?” inquired Jack, putting his head a little more to one side and revolving his thumbs in a contrary direction, by way of variety.

“Torterers—man-torterers! What d’ye twirl your thumbs like that for, eh?”

“Because it reminds me how easily, if I were unchained and had on my wooden leg, I could twirl you round your own neck, and cram your heels into your own mouth, and ram you down your own throat, until there was nothing of you left but the extreme ends of your shirt-collar sticking out of your eyes.”

The mention of this peculiarly complicated operation seemed to be too much for the men: setting up a loud yell, they rushed upon Jack and seized him.

“Quick—the screws!” cried the man with the flattened nose.

A small iron instrument was brought, Jack’s thumbs inserted therein, and the handle turned. I heard a harsh, grating sound, and observed my poor companion’s face grow deadly pale and his lips turn blue. But he uttered no cry, and, to my surprise, he did not even struggle.

“Stop!” I shouted in a voice of thunder.

The men looked round in surprise. At that moment a great idea seemed to fill my soul. I cannot explain what it was. To this day I do not know what it was. It was a mystery—an indescribable mystery. I felt as one might be supposed to feel whose spirit were capable of eating material food, and had eaten too much. It was awful! Under the impulse of this sensation, I again shouted—

“Stop!”

“Why?”

“I cannot tell you why, until you unscrew that machine. Quick! it is of the deepest, the most vital importance to yourselves.”

The extreme earnestness of my voice and manner induced the men to comply almost, I might say, in spite of themselves.

“Now, lad, what is it? Mind, your turn is coming; so don’t trifle with us.”

“Trifle with you!” I said, in a voice so deep, and slow, and solemn,—with a look so preternaturally awful,—that the four men were visibly impressed.

“Listen! I have a secret to tell you,—a secret that intimately concerns yourselves. It is a fearful one. You would give all you possess—your wealth, your very lives—rather than not know it. I can tell it to you; but not now. All the tortures of the Inquisition could not drag it out of me. Nay, you need not smile. If you did torture me before I told you this secret, that would have the effect of rendering my information useless to you. Nothing could then save you. I must be left alone with my friend for an hour. Go! You may leave us chained; you may lock and bar your door; you may watch and guard the house; but go, leave us. Much—too much—valuable time has been already lost. Come back in one hour,” (here I pulled out my watch),—“in one hour and three minutes and five seconds, exactly; not sooner. Go! quick! as you value your lives, your families, your property. And hark, in your ear,” (here I glared at them like a maniac, and sank my voice to a deep hoarse whisper), “as you value the very existence of your slaves, go, leave us instantly, and return at the hour named!”

The men were evidently overawed by the vehemence of my manner and the mysterious nature of my remarks. Without uttering a word they withdrew, and locked the door behind them. Happily they left the torches.

As soon as they were gone I threw my arms round my comrade’s neck, and, resting my head on his shoulder, bemoaned our sad lot.

“Dear, dear Jack, have they hurt you?”

“Oh! nothing to speak of. But I say, Bob, my boy, what on earth can this monstrous secret be? It must be something very tremendous?”

“My poor Jack,” said I, regardless of his question, “your thumbs are bruised and bleeding. Oh that I should have lived to bring you to this!”

“Come, come, Bob, enough of that. They are a little soreish, but nothing to what they would have been had you not stopped them. But, I say, what is this secret? I’m dying to know. My dear boy, you’ve no idea how you looked when you were spouting like that. You made my flesh creep, I assure you. Come, out with it; what’s the secret?”

I felt, and no doubt looked, somewhat confused.

“Do you know, Jack,” said I, solemnly, “I have no secret whatever!”

Jack gasped and stared—

“No secret, Bob!”

“Not the most distant shadow of one.”

Jack pulled out his watch, and said in a low voice—

“Bob, my boy, we have just got about three-quarters of an hour to live. When these villains come back, and find that you’ve been humbugging them, they’ll brain us on the spot, as sure as my name is John Brown and yours is Robert Smith—romantic names, both of ’em; especially when associated with the little romance in which we are now involved. Ha! ha! ha!”

I shrank back from my friend with the terrible dread, which had more than once crossed my mind, that he was going mad.

“Oh, Jack, don’t laugh, pray. Could we not invent some secret to tell them?”

“Not a bad idea,” returned my friend, gravely.

“Well, let us think; what could we say?”

“Ay, that’s the rub! Suppose we tell them seriously that my wooden leg is a ghost, and that it haunts those who ill-treat its master, giving them perpetual bangs on the nose, and otherwise rendering their lives miserable?”

I shook my head.

“Well, then, suppose we say we’ve been sent by the Queen of England to treat with them about the liberation of the niggers at a thousand pounds a head; one hundred paid down in gold, the rest in American shin-plasters?”

“That would be a lie, you know, Jack.”