English
ItwastheDoverroadthatlay,onaFridaynightlateinNovember,beforethefirstofthepersonswithwhomthishistoryhasbusiness.
TheDoverroadlay,astohim,beyondtheDovermail,asitlumberedupShooter’sHill.
Hewalkeduphillinthemirebythesideofthemail,astherestofthepassengersdid;notbecausetheyhadtheleastrelishforwalkingexercise,underthecircumstances,butbecausethehill,andtheharness,andthemud,andthemail,wereallsoheavy,thatthehorseshadthreetimesalreadycometoastop,besidesoncedrawingthecoachacrosstheroad,withthemutinousintentoftakingitbacktoBlackheath.
Reinsandwhipandcoachmanandguard,however,incombination,hadreadthatarticleofwarwhichforbadeapurposeotherwisestronglyinfavouroftheargument,thatsomebruteanimalsareenduedwithReason;andtheteamhadcapitulatedandreturnedtotheirduty.
Withdroopingheadsandtremuloustails,theymashedtheirwaythroughthethickmud,flounderingandstumblingbetweenwhiles,asiftheywerefallingtopiecesatthelargerjoints.
Asoftenasthedriverrestedthemandbroughtthemtoastand,withawary“Wo-ho!so-ho-then!”
thenearleaderviolentlyshookhisheadandeverythinguponit—likeanunusuallyemphatichorse,denyingthatthecoachcouldbegotupthehill.
Whenevertheleadermadethisrattle,thepassengerstarted,asanervouspassengermight,andwasdisturbedinmind.
Therewasasteamingmistinallthehollows,andithadroamedinitsforlornnessupthehill,likeanevilspirit,seekingrestandfindingnone.
Aclammyandintenselycoldmist,itmadeitsslowwaythroughtheairinripplesthatvisiblyfollowedandoverspreadoneanother,asthewavesofanunwholesomeseamightdo.
Itwasdenseenoughtoshutouteverythingfromthelightofthecoach-lampsbuttheseitsownworkings,andafewyardsofroad;andthereekofthelabouringhorsessteamedintoit,asiftheyhadmadeitall.
Twootherpassengers,besidestheone,wereploddingupthehillbythesideofthemail.
Allthreewerewrappedtothecheekbonesandovertheears,andworejack-boots.
Notoneofthethreecouldhavesaid,fromanythinghesaw,whateitheroftheothertwowaslike;andeachwashiddenunderalmostasmanywrappersfromtheeyesofthemind,asfromtheeyesofthebody,ofhistwocompanions.
Inthosedays,travellerswereveryshyofbeingconfidentialonashortnotice,foranybodyontheroadmightbearobberorinleaguewithrobbers.
Astothelatter,wheneveryposting-houseandale-housecouldproducesomebodyin“theCaptain’s”pay,rangingfromthelandlordtotheloweststablenon-descript,itwasthelikeliestthinguponthecards.
SotheguardoftheDovermailthoughttohimself,thatFridaynightinNovember,onethousandsevenhundredandseventy-five,lumberingupShooter’sHill,ashestoodonhisownparticularperchbehindthemail,beatinghisfeet,andkeepinganeyeandahandonthearm-chestbeforehim,wherealoadedblunderbusslayatthetopofsixoreightloadedhorse-pistols,depositedonasubstratumofcutlass.
TheDovermailwasinitsusualgenialpositionthattheguardsuspectedthepassengers,thepassengerssuspectedoneanotherandtheguard,theyallsuspectedeverybodyelse,andthecoachmanwassureofnothingbutthehorses;astowhichcattlehecouldwithaclearconsciencehavetakenhisoathonthetwoTestamentsthattheywerenotfitforthejourney.
“Wo-ho!”saidthecoachman.“So,then!Onemorepullandyou’reatthetopandbedamnedtoyou,forIhavehadtroubleenoughtogetyoutoit.“
“Halloa!”theguardreplied.
“Whato’clockdoyoumakeit,Joe?”
“Tenminutes,good,pasteleven.”
“Myblood!”ejaculatedthevexedcoachman,“andnotatopofShooter’syet!Tst!Yah!Getonwithyou!“
Theemphatichorse,cutshortbythewhipinamostdecidednegative,madeadecidedscrambleforit,andthethreeotherhorsesfollowedsuit.
Oncemore,theDovermailstruggledon,withthejack-bootsofitspassengerssquashingalongbyitsside.
Theyhadstoppedwhenthecoachstopped,andtheykeptclosecompanywithit.
Ifanyoneofthethreehadhadthehardihoodtoproposetoanothertowalkonalittleaheadintothemistanddarkness,hewouldhaveputhimselfinafairwayofgettingshotinstantlyasahighwayman.
Thelastburstcarriedthemailtothesummitofthehill.
Thehorsesstoppedtobreatheagain,andtheguardgotdowntoskidthewheelforthedescent,andopenthecoach-doortoletthepassengersin.
“Tst!Joe!”criedthecoachmaninawarningvoice,lookingdownfromhisbox.
“Whatdoyousay,Tom?”
Theybothlistened.
“Isayahorseatacantercomingup,Joe.”
“Isayahorseatagallop,Tom,”returnedtheguard,leavinghisholdofthedoor,andmountingnimblytohisplace.“Gentlemen!Inthekingsname,allofyou!”
Withthishurriedadjuration,hecockedhisblunderbuss,andstoodontheoffensive.
Thepassengerbookedbythishistory,wasonthecoach-step,gettingin;thetwootherpassengerswereclosebehindhim,andabouttofollow.
Heremainedonthestep,halfinthecoachandhalfoutof;theyre-mainedintheroadbelowhim.
Theyalllookedfromthecoachmantotheguard,andfromtheguardtothecoachman,andlistened.
Thecoachmanlookedbackandtheguardlookedback,andeventheemphaticleaderprickeduphisearsandlookedback,withoutcontradicting.
Thestillnessconsequentonthecessationoftherumblingandandlabouringofthecoach,addedtothestillnessofthenight,madeitveryquietindeed.
Thepantingofthehorsescommunicatedatremulousmotiontothecoach,asifitwereinastateofagitation.
Theheartsofthepassengersbeatloudenoughperhapstobeheard;butatanyrate,thequietpausewasaudiblyexpressiveofpeopleoutofbreath,andholdingthebreath,andhavingthepulsesquickenedbyexpectation.
Thesoundofahorseatagallopcamefastandfuriouslyupthehill.
“So-ho!”theguardsangout,asloudashecouldroar.“Yothere!Stand!Ishallfire!”
Thepacewassuddenlychecked,and,withmuchsplashingandfloundering,aman’svoicecalledfromthemist,“IsthattheDovermail?”
“Neveryoumindwhatitis!”theguardretorted.“Whatareyou?”
“ISthattheDovermail?”
“Whydoyouwanttoknow?”
“Iwantapassenger,ifitis.”
“Whatpassenger?”
“Mr.JarvisLorry.”
Ourbookedpassengershowedinamomentthatitwashisname.Theguard,thecoachman,andthetwootherpassengerseyedhimdistrustfully.
“Keepwhereyouare,”theguardcalledtothevoiceinthemist,“because,ifIshouldmakeamistake,itcouldneverbesetrightinyourlifetime.GentlemanofthenameofLorryanswerstraight.”
“Whatisthematter?”askedthepassenger,then,withmildlyquaveringspeech.“Whowantsme?IsitJerry?”
(“Idon’tlikeJerry’svoice,ifitisJerry,”growledtheguardtohimself.“He’shoarserthansuitsme,isJerry.”)
“Yes,Mr.Lorry.”
“Whatisthematter?”
“Adespatchsentafteryoufromoveryonder.T.andCo.”
“Iknowthismessenger,guard,”saidMr.Lorry,gettingdownintotheroad—assistedfrombehindmoreswiftlythanpolitelybytheothertwopassengers,whoimmediatelyscrambledintothecoach,shutthedoor,andpulledupthewindow.
“Hemaycomeclose;there’snothingwrong.”
“Ihopethereain’t,butIcan’tmakeso‘Nationsureofthat,”saidtheguard,ingruffsoliloquy.“Halloyou!”
“Well!Andhalloyou!”saidJerry,morehoarselythanbefore.
“Comeonatafootpace!d’yemindme?
Andifyou’vegotholsterstothatsaddleo’yourn,don’tletmeseeyourhandgonigh‘em.
ForI’madevilataquickmistake,andwhenImakeoneittakestheformofLead.Sonowlet’slookatyou.”
Thefiguresofahorseandridercameslowlythroughtheeddyingmist,andcametothesideofthemail,wherethepassengerstood.
Theriderstooped,and,castinguphiseyesattheguard,handedthepassengerasmallfoldedpaper.
Therider’shorsewasblown,andbothhorseandriderwerecoveredwithmud,fromthehoofsofthehorsetothehatoftheman.
“Guard!”saidthepassenger,inatoneofquietbusinessconfidence.
Thewatchfulguard,withhisrighthandatthestockofhisraisedblunderbuss,hisleftatthebarrel,andhiseyeonthehorseman,answeredcurtly,“Sir.”
“Thereisnothingtoapprehend.IbelongtoTellson’sBank.YoumustknowTellson’sBankinLondon.IamgoingtoParisonbusiness.Acrowntodrink.Imayreadthis?”
“Ifsobeasyou’requick,sir.”
Heopeneditinthelightofthecoach-lamponthatside,andread—firsttohimselfandthenaloud:”`WaitatDoverforMam’selle.’It’snotlong,yousee,guard.
Jerry,saythatmyanswerwas,RECALLEDTOLIFE.”
Jerrystartedinhissaddle.“That’saBlazingstrangeanswer,too,”saidhe,athishoarsest.
“Takethatmessageback,andtheywillknowthatIreceivedthis,aswellasifIwrote.Makethebestofyourway.Goodnight.”
Withthosewordsthepassengeropenedthecoach-doorandgotin;notatallassistedbyhisfellow-passengers,whohadexpeditiouslysecretedtheirwatchesandpursesintheirboots,andwerenowmakingageneralpretenceofbeingasleep.
Withnomoredefinitepurposethantoescapethehazardoforiginatinganyotherkindofaction.
Thecoachlumberedonagain,withheavierwreathsofmistclosingrounditasitbeganthedescent.
Theguardsoonreplacedhisblunderbussinhisarm-chest,and,havinglookedtotherestofitscontents,andhavinglookedtothesupplementarypistolsthatheworeinhisbelt,lookedtoasmallerchestbeneathhisseat,inwhichtherewereafewsmith’stools,acoupleoftorches,andatinder-box.
Forhewasfurnishedwiththatcompletenessthatifthecoach-lampshadbeenblownandstormedout,whichdidoccasionallyhappen,hehadonlytoshuthimselfupinside,keeptheflintandsteelsparkswelloffthestraw,andgetalightwithtolerablesafetyandease(ifhewerelucky)infiveminutes.
“Tom!”softlyoverthecoachroof.
“Hallo,Joe.”
“Didyouhearthemessage?”
“Idid,Joe.”
“Whatdidyoumakeofit,Tom?”
“Nothingatall,Joe.”
“That’sacoincidence,too,”theguardmused,“forImadethesameofitmyself.”
Jerry,leftaloneinthemistanddarkness,dismountedmeanwhile,notonlytoeasehisspenthorse,buttowipethemudfromhisface,andshakethewetoutofhishat-brim,whichmightbecapableofholdingabouthalfagallon.
Afterstandingwiththebridleoverhisheavily-splashedarm,untilthewheelsofthemailwerenolongerwithinhearingandthenightwasquitestillagain,heturnedtowalkdownthehill.
“AfterthattheregallopfromTempleBar,oldlady,Iwon’ttrustyourfore-legstillIgetyouonthelevel,”saidthishoarsemessenger,glancingathismare.”`Recalledtolife.’That’saBlazingstrangemessage.
Muchofthatwouldn’tdoforyou,Jerry!Isay,Jerry!
You’dbeinaBlazingbadway,ifrecallingtolifewastocomeintofashion,Jerry!”
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