05. Great Expectations: Charles Dickens

The apparition of a file of soldiers ringing down the butt-ends of their loaded muskets on our door-step caused the dinner party to rise from the table in confusion, and caused Mrs Joe, re-entering the kitchen empty-handed, to stop short and stare, in her wondering lament of 'Gracious goodness gracious me, "What is gone --- with the --- pie!" 

The sergeant and I were in the kitchen when Mrs Joe stood staring; at which crisis I partially recovered the use of my senses.  It was the sergeant who had spoken to me, and he was now looking round at the company, with his handcuffs invitingly extended towards them in his right hand, and his left on my shoulder. 

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," said the sergeant, "but as I have mentioned at the door to this smart young shaver," I am on a chase in the name of the king, and I want the blacksmith."

"And what might you want with him?" retorted my sister, quick to resent his being wanted at all. 

"Missis," returned the gallant sergeant, "speaking for myself, I should reply, the honour and pleasure of his fine wife's acquaintance; speaking for the king, I answer, a little job done."

This was received as rather neat in the sergeant, insomuch that Mr Pumblechook cried audibly, "Good again!"

"You see, blacksmith," said the sergeant, who had by this time picked out Joe with his eye, "we have had an accident with these, and I find the lock of one of them goes wrong, and the coupling don't act pretty.  As they are wanted for immediate service, will you throw your eye over them?" 

Joe threw his eyes over them, and pronounced that the job would necessitate the lighting of his forge fire, and would take nearer two hours than one.  "Will it?  Then will you set about it at once, blacksmith? said off-hand the sergeant, "as it is on his Majesty's service.  And if my men can bear a hand anywhere, they will make themselves useful."  With that he called his men, who came trooping into the kitchen one after  another, and piled their arms in a corner.  And then they stood about as soldiers do; now, with their hands loosely clasped before them; now resting a knee or a shoulder; now, easing a belt or a pouch; now, opening the door to spit stiffly over their high stocks, out into the yard.

All these things I saw without then knowing that I saw them, for I was in agony of apprehension I came to realise that the handcuffs were not for me, and the military had  so far got the better of the pie as to put it in the background, I collected a little more of the pie as to put it in the background, I collected little more of my scattered wits.

"Would you give me the time?" said the sergeant, addressing himself to Mr Pumblechook, as to a man whose appreciative powers justified the inference that he was equal to the time.

"It's just gone half past two." 

"That's not so bad," said the sergeant, reflecting; "even if I was forced to halt here night two hours, that'll do.  How far might you call yourselves from the marshes, here about?  Not about a mile I reckon?"

"Just a mile," said Mrs Joe.

"That'll do.  We began to close in upon them about dusk.  A little before dusk, my orders are.  That'll do."

"Convicts, sergeant?" asked Mr Wopsle, in a matter of course way.

"Ay!" returned the sergeant, "two.  They 're pretty well known to be out on the marshes still, and they won't try to get clear of 'em before dusk.  Anybody here seen anything of any such game?"

Everybody, myself excepted, said no with confidence.  Nobody thought of me.

"Well," said the sergeant, "they 'll find themselves trapped in a circle, I expect, sooner than they count on.  Now, blacksmith!  If you are ready, his Majesty the King is."

Joe had got his coat and waistcoat and cravat off, and his leather apron on, and passed into the forge.  One of the soldiers opened its wooden windows, another lighted the fire, and another turned to at the bellows, the rest stood round the blaze, which was soon roaring.  Then Joe began to hammer and clink, hammer and clink , and we all looked on.

The interest of the impending pursuit not only absorbed general attention, but even made my sister liberal.  She drew a pitcher of beer from the cask, for soldiers, and invited the sergeant to a glass of brandy.  But Mr Pumblechook said sharply, "Give him wine, Mum.  I will engage there is no Tar in that.  The sergeant thanked him and said that as he preferred his drink without tar, he would take wine, if it was equally convenient.  When it was given him, he drank His Majesty's health, and compliment of the season, and took it all at a mouthful and smacked his lips.

"Good stuff, eh, sergeant?" said Mr Pumblechook, with his former laugh. "Have another glass."

"With you. Hob and nob " returned the sergeant.  "The top of mine to the foot of yours --- the foot of yours to the top of mine --- Ring once, ring twice --- the best tune on the Musical Glasses!  Your health.  May you live a thousand years, and never be a worse judge of the right sort than you are at the present moment of life!" 

The sergeant toasted off his glasses again and seemed quite ready for another glass.  I noticed that Mr Pumblechook in his hospitality appeared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, but took the bottle from Mrs Joe and had all the credit of handing it about in a gush of joviality.  Even I got some.  And he was so very free of the wine that he even called for other bottle, and handed that about with the same liberality, when the first was gone.

As I watched them while they all stood clustering about the forge, enjoying themselves so much, I thought what terrible good sauce for dinner my fugitive friend on the marshes was.  They had not enjoyed themselves a quarter so much, before the entertainment was brightened with the excitement he furnished.  And now, when they were all in lively anticipation of the "two villians" being taken, and when the bellows seemed to roar for the fugitives, the fire to flare for them, the smoke to hurry away in pursuit of them, Joe to hammer and clink for them, and all the murky shadows on the wall to shake at them in menace as the glaze rose and sank and the red-hot sparks dropped and dried, the pale afternoon outside almost seemed in my pitying young fancy to have turned pale on their account, poor wretches.

At last Joe's job was done, and the ringing and roaring stopped.  As Joe got on his coat, he mustered courage to propose that some of us should go down with the soldiers and see what came of the hunt.  Mr Pumblechook and Mr Hubble declined, on the plea of a pipe and ladies' society ; but Mr Wopsle said he would go, if Joe would.  Joe said he was agreeable, and would take me, if Mrs Joe approved.  We never should have got leave to go, I am sure, but for Mrs Joe's curiosity to know all about it and how it ended.  As it was, she merely stipulated: "If you bring back the boy with his head blown to bits by a musket, don't look to me to put it together again." 

The sergeant took a polite leave of the ladies, and parted from Mr Pumblechook as from a comrade, though I doubt if he were quite as fully sensible of that gentleman's merits under and conditions, as when something moist was going.  His men resumed their muskets and fell in.  Mr Wopsle, Joe, and I, received strict charge to keep in the rear, and to speak no word after we reached the marshes.  When we were all out in the raw air and were steadily moving towards our business, I reasonably whispered to Joe: "I hope, Joe, we shan't find them."  And Joe whispered to me, "I would give a shilling if they had cut and run, Pip." 

We were joined by no stragglers from the village, for the weather was cold and threatening, the way dreary, the footing bad, darkness coming on, and the people had good fires indoors, and were keeping the day.  A few faces hurried glowing windows and looked after us, but none came out.  We passed the finger post, and held straight onto the churchyard.  There, we were stopped a few minutes by a signal from sergeant's hand, while two or three of his men dispersed themselves among the graves, and also examined the porch.  They came in again without finding anything, and then we struck out on the open marshes, through the gate at the side of the churchyard.  A bitter sleet came rattling against us here on the east wind, and Joe took me on his back.

Now we are out upon the dismal wilderness where they little thought I had been within eight or nine hours, and had seen both hiding, I considered for the first time with great dread, whether we should come upon them, would my particular convict suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers there?  He had asked me if I was a deceiving imp, and he said I would be a fierce young hound if I joined the hunt against him.  Would he believe that I was both imp and hound in treacherous earnest and betrayed him?

It was no use of asking myself this question now.   There I was, on Joe's back, and there was Joe beneath me, charging at the ditches like a hunter, and stimulating Mr Wopsle not to tumble on his Roman nose, and to keep up with us.  The soldiers were in front of us, extending into a pretty wide line with an interval between man and man.  We were taking the course I had begun with, and from which I had dived into the mist.  Either the mist was not out again yet or the wind had disciplined it.  Under the low red glare of the sunset, the beacon, and the gibbet, and the mound of the Battery, and the opposite shore of the river, were plain, though all of a watery lead colour.

With my heart thumping like a blacksmith at Joe's broad shoulder, I looked all about for any signs of the convicts.  I could see none, I could hear none.  Mr Wopsle had greatly alarmed me more than once, by his blowing and hard breathing; but I knew the sound by this time, and could dissociate them from the objects of pursuit.  I got a dreadful start, when I thought I heard the file still going; but it was only a sheep bell.  The sheep stopped in their eating, and looked timidly at us; and the cattle, their heads turned from the wind and sleet, stared angrily, as if they held us responsible for both annoyances; but except these things, and the shudder of the dying day in every blade of grass, there was no break in bleak stillness of the marshes.

The soldiers were moving on in the direction of the old Battery, and we were moving on a little way behind them, when all of a sudden, we all stopped.  There, reached us on the wings of the wind and rain, a long shout.  It was repeated.  It was at a distance towards east.  It was long and loud.  Nay, there seemed to be two or more shouts raised together -- if one might judge from the confusion in the sound.

To this effect the sergeant and the nearest men were speaking under their breath when Joe and I came up.

After another moment's listening, Joe who was a good judge, agreed, and Mr Wopsle, who was a bad judge, agreed.  The sergeant, a decisive man, ordered that the sound should not be answered, but the course should be changed, and that his men should make towards it 'at the double'.  So we started to the right, where the east was, and Joe pounded away so wonderfully that I had to hold on tight to keep my seat.

It was a run indeed now, and what Joe called, :a winder'.  Down banks and up banks, and over gates, and splashing into.dykes, and breaking among some rushes: no man cared where he went.  As we came nearer to the shouting, it became more and more apparent that it was made by more than one voice .  Sometimes, it seemed to stop altogether, and then the soldiers stopped.   And when it broke out again, the soldiers made for it at a greater rate than ever, and we after them.  After a while we had so run it down, that we could hear one voice calling 'Murder!' and another voice: 'Convicts! Runaways Guard! This way for the runaway convicts!'  Then both voices would seem to be stifled in a struggle, and then would break out again.  And when it had come to this, the soldiers ran like deer, and Joe too.

The sergeant ran in first, when we had run, the noise quite down, and two of his men ran in close upon him.  Their paces were cocked and levelled when we all ran in.

"Here are both men!" panted the sergeant, struggling at the bottom of a ditch.  "Surrender, you two!  and confound you for two.wild beasts!  Come, surrender!" 

Water was splashing and mud was flying, and oaths were being swprn, and blows were being struck, when some more men went down into the ditch to help the sergeant, and dragged out seperately, my convict and other one.  Both were bleeding and panting, and execrating and struggling, ofcourse I know them both directly.

'Mind!" said my convict, wiping blood from his face with his ragged sleeves, and shaking torn hair from his fingers; "I took him!  I give him upto you!  Mind that!"

" It's not much to be particular about,"

said the sergeant; it'll do you small good, my men being in the same plight 

"I don't expect it to do me any good.  I don't want it to do me more good than it does now," said my convict, with greedy laugh.  "I took him.  He knows it.  That's enough for me."

The other convict was livid.to look at, and in addition to the old bruised left side of his face, seemed to be bruised and torn all over.  He could not so much as get his breath to speak, until they were both seperately handcuffed, but leaned upon a soldier to keep himself from falling. 

"Take notice, guard --- he tried to murder me," were his first words 

"Tried to murder him?" said my convict disdainfully.  "Try, and not to do it?   I took him and give him up; that's what I done.  I not only prevented him getting off the marshes, but I dragged him here --- dragged him this far on his way back.

He's a gentleman, if you please, this villain.  Now the Hulks has got its gentleman again through me.  Murder him?  Worth my while, too, to murder him, when I could do worse not drag him back!" 

The other one still gasped: "He tried -- he tried-- to --- murder me.  Bear --- Bear witness."

"Look here!," said my convict, to the sergeant, "single-handed I got clear of the prison-ship; I made a dash and I done it.  I couldn't have got clear of these death cold flats likewise --- look at my leg: You won't find much iron on it --- if I hadn't made discovery

that he was here.  Let him go free?  Let him profit by the means as I found out.  Let him make a tool of me afresh and again?  Once more?  No, no, no.   If I had died at the bottom there" ; and he made an emphatic swing at the ditch with his menacled hands; I would have held him with that grip, that you should have been safe to find him in my hold.

The other fugitive, who was evidently.in extreme horror of his companion, repeated, "He tried to murder me.  I should have been a dead man if you had not come up."

"He is lying," said my convict, with fierce energy,  He's a liar born, and he'll die a liar.  Look at his face; ain't it written there?  Let him turn those eyes of his on me.  I defy him to do it." 

The other with an effort at a scornful smile --- which could not however collect the nervous working of his mouth into any set expression, looked at the soldiers, and looked about at the marshes and at the sky, but certainly did not look at the speaker. 

"Do you see him?" pursued my convict.  "Do you see what a vilian he is? Do you see what a grovelling and wandering eyes?  That's how he looked when we were tried together.  He never looked at me.

The other, always working and working his dry lips and turning his eyes restlessly about him far and near did at last turn them for a moment on the speaker, with the words, "You are not much to look at," and with a half-taunting glance at the bound hands.  At that point, my convict became so frankly exasperated, that he would have rushed upon him, but for the interposition of the soldiers.  "Didn't I tell you," said the other convict then, "that he would murder me, if he could?"  And any one could see that he shook with fear, and that there broke out on his lips curious white flakes, like thin snow.

"Enough of this parley," said the sergeant.  "Lighthouse torches." 

As one of the soldiers, who carried a basket in lieu of a gun went down on his knees to open it, my convict looked round him for the first time, and saw me.  I had alighted from Joe's back on the brink of the ditch when we came up, and had not moved since.  I looked at him eagerly when he looked at me, and slightly moved my hands and shook my head.  I had been waiting for him to see me, that I might try to assure him of my innocence.  It was not at all expressed to me that he even comprehended my intention, for he gave me a look that I did not understand, and it all passed in a moment.  But if he had looked at me for an hour or for a day, I could not have remembered his face ever afterwards, as having been more attentive.

The soldier with the basket soon got a light, and lighted three or four torches, took one himself and distributed the others.  It had been almost dark before, but now it seemed quite dark, and soon afterwards very dark.  Before we departed from that spot, four soldiers standing in a ring, fired twice into the air.  Presently we saw other torches kindled at some distance behind us, and others on the marshes on the opposite bank of the river.  "Alright," said the sergeant, "March." 

We had not gone far when three cannon were fired ahead of us with a sound that seemed to burst something inside my ear.  "You are expected on board," said the sergeant to my convict; they know you are coming.   Don't struggle, my man.  Close up here."

The two were kept apart, and each walked surrounded by a separate guard.  I had hold of Joe's hand now, and Joe carried one of the torches.

Mr Wopsle had been for going back, but Joe was resolved to see it out, so we went on with the party.  There was a reasonably good path now, mostly on the edge of the river, with a divergence here and there where a dyke came with a miniature windmill on it and a muddy sluice-gate.  When I looked round, I could see the other lights coming in after us.  The torches we carried, dropped great blotches of fire upon the track, and I could see those, too lying smoking and flaring.  I could see nothing else but black darkness.  Our lights warmed the air about us with their pitchy blaze, and the two prisoners seemed rather to like that, as they limped along in the midst of muskets.  We could not go fast because of their lameness.  They were so spent, the two or three times we had to halt while they rested.

After an hour or so of this travelling, we came to a rough wooden hut and a landing place.  The guard in the hut challenged and the sergeant answered.  Then we went into the hut.  The smell of tobacco, whitewash and a bright fire.  A lamp and a stand of muskets.  A drum, a low wooden bedstead like an overgrown mangles without the machinery, capable of holding about a dozen soldiers all at once.  Three or four soldiers who lay upon in their great-coats, were not much interested in us, but just lifted their heads and took a sleepy stare, and then lay down again.  The sergeant made some kind of report, and some entry in a book, and then the convict whom I call the other convict was drafted off with his guard, to go on board first.

My convict never looked at me, except that once.  While we stood in the hut, he stood before the fire looking thoughtfully at them, as if he pitied them for their recent adventures.  Suddenly he turned to the sergeant, and remarked, "I wish to say something respecting this escape.  It may prevent some persons laying under suspicion alonger me." 

"You can say what you like," returned the sergeant, standing coolly looking at him, with his arms folded, "but you have no call to say it here.  You'll have opportunity enough to say it." 

"I know, but this is a separate matter.

A man can't starve; at least I can't.  I took some wittles, up at the village over yonder, where the church stands almost out on the marshes." 

"You mean stole," said the sergeant.

"And I'll tell you where from.  From the blacksmith's." 

"Hello," said the sergeant, staring at Joe.

"Hello Pip!" said Joe, staring at me.

"It was some broken wittles --- that's what it was --- and a drop of liquor, and pie." 

"Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, blacksmith?" asked the sergeant confidentially.

"My wife did, at the very moment when you came in.  Don't you know, Pip?"

"So," said my convict, turning his eyes on Joe in a moody manner, and without the least glance at me; "so, you are the blacksmith, are you?  Then I am sorry to say, I ate your pie." 

"God knows you are welcome to it --- so far as it was ever mine," returned Joe, with a saving remembrance of Mrs Joe.

"We don't know what you have done, but we wouldn't have you starved to death for it, poor miserable fellow -- Would us, Pip?"

The something that I had noticed before, clicked in the man's throat again, and he turned his back.  The boat had returned, and his guards were ready, so we followed him to the landing-place made of rough stakes and stones, and saw him put into the boat, which was rowed by a crew of convicts like him, or interested in seeing him, or glad to see him, or sorry to see him, or spoke a word, except that somebody in the boat growled as if to dogs, "Give way, you!" which was the signal for the dip of the oars.  By the light of the torches, we saw the black Hulk lying out a little way from the mud, like a wicked Noah's Ark.  Cribbed and barred and moored by massive rusty chains, the ship seemed in my eyes to be ironed like the prisoners.  We saw the boat move alongside, and him taken up and disappear.  The ends of the torches were flung hissing into the water, and went out, as if it were all over with him.

End of the chapter