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The Torch and Other Tales by Eden Phillpotts

E >> Eden Phillpotts >> The Torch and Other Tales



THE TORCH AND OTHER TALES

by

EDEN PHILLPOTTS

Author of _Tryphena_

New York:
The MacMillan Company







I. 'SANTA CLAUS'
II. THE RETURNED NATIVE
III. JOHN AND JANE
IV. THE OLD SOLDIER
V. WHEN FOX WAS FERRYMAN
VI. MOTHER'S MISFORTUNE
VII. STEADFAST SAMUEL
VIII. THE HOUND'S POOL
IX. THE PRICE OF MILLY BASSETT
X. THE AMBER HEART
XI. THE WISE WOMAN OF WALNA
XII. THE TORCH
XIII. 'SPIDER'
XIV. THE WOODSTOCK
XV. THE NIGHT-HAWK




No. I

'SANTA CLAUS'


Nobody knew where Teddy Pegram came from or why the man ordained to settle
down in Little Silver. He had no relations round about and couldn't, or
wouldn't, tell his new neighbours what had brought him along. But he bided
a bit with Mrs. Ford, the policeman's wife, as a lodger, and then, when
he'd sized up the place and found it suited him, he took a tumble-down,
four-room cottage at the back-side of the village and worked upon it
himself and soon had the place to his liking. A most handy little man he
was and could turn his skill in many directions. And he'd do odd jobs for
the neighbours and show a good bit of kindness to the children. He lived
alone and looked after himself, for he could cook and sew like a woman--at
least like the clever ones. In fact there didn't seem nothing he couldn't
do. And his knowledge extended above crafts, for he'd got a bit of
learning also and he'd talk with Johns at the shop-of-all-sorts about
business, or with Samual Mutters, the chemist, about patent medicines, or
with butcher or baker concerning their jobs, or with policemen about
crime, and be worth attending to on any subject.

His pleasure, however, was sporting, and not until he'd dwelt among us a
good bit did a measure of doubt in that matter creep into our praise of
the man.

Round about fifty he might have been--a clean-shaved, active chap, five
feet three inches high, and always bursting with energy. He had grizzled
hair and a blue chin and eyes so bright and black as shoe-buttons. A hard
mouth and lips always pursed up over his yellow teeth; but though it
looked a cruel sort of mouth, nought cruel ever came out of it save in the
matter of politics. He was a red radical and didn't go to church, yet
against that you could set his all-round good-will and friendship and his
uncommon knack of lending a hand to anybody in his power to serve. But he
was up against the Government, and would talk so fierce of a night
sometimes at the 'Barley Sheaf' that Ned Chown, the landlord, who was a
true blue, didn't think so well on Mr. Pegram as the most of us. Friends
he made, but hadn't much use for the women, though he declared himself as
not against them. He was a bachelor-minded man by nature, and yet, what
ain't so common in that sort, he liked childer and often had a halfpenny
in his pocket for one of his pets.

Mrs. Ford, however, he regarded as a great and trustworthy friend, and her
husband also, for, from the time he lodged with them, they all agreed
uncommon well, and Joseph Ford, the policeman, was high in his praises of
Teddy from the first. He happened to be a very radical thinker himself,
did Joseph, but, as became his calling, put law and order first; and you
felt that the newcomer agreed on that matter and didn't want to do
anything contrary to the constitution, but just advance the welfare of the
under-dog by proper means; so Joseph said there was no fault in the man
and praised his opinions.

In truth Teddy Pegram appeared to be a very great stickler for the law and
held it in high respect--so he always declared--and reckoned that those
who put themselves within the reach of it deserved all they got. He might
say doubtful things to Joseph Ford's ear now and again, but nought the
policeman could fairly quarrel with, because both Joseph and Minnie, his
wife, owed Teddy a bit by now, and, doting on their little son as they
did, felt a bit weak to the man in that quarter.

Their only child was six years old, and the amazing beauty of young Joey
Ford made him many friends beside Mr. Pegram. He was one of they children
that look too good and too beautiful for this world, and you feel that, by
rights, they did ought to grow a pair of wings and fly away to heaven. And
for that matter, old Jane Marks, who was famous for seeing and pointing
out the dark side of all human hopes, warned Minnie more'n once against
putting her whole trust in the beautiful boy.

"To my eye there's early death looking out of his eyes," Jane Marks would
say. "Such blue eyes belong to the sky, Minnie, and there's more to it
than his angel face, because the child's so parlous good that it ain't
straining truth to say the Old Adam be left out of him. And granted that,
this vale of tears is no place for such a boy. Heaven's his home," Mrs.
Marks would say, "and so you must fortify yourself for an early loss."

Minnie didn't worry, however, because her son was a strong lad and sturdy
as well as lovely. He'd gotten his father's fine shape and his mother's
gentle heart, and though good as gold, he weren't a Mary-boy, as we
say--one of them gentle, frightened childer who can't let go their
mother's apron. That sort, if they grow up, turn into indoor man-servants
and ain't very powerful as a rule in their bodies or intellects; but Joey
was a brave young lad enough and had already fixed on his father's
profession for his own.

And Teddy Pegram took most powerful to him and made him many a game and
many a clever toy. He'd walk with the child to the woods sometimes and
teach him the ways of birds and beasts, and show him how to catch 'em; for
Ted was a rare sportsman and deeply skilled in all the branches of it. And
'twas his bent in that direction led to the extraordinary affair of this
tale; though it was a good year before the crash came and for a long time
no cloud arose to darken his steadfast friendship with the Fords. You
might say they was more than friends, for Teddy explained to the young
couple that he stood alone in the world, without chick or child of his
own, and felt very wishful to have some special interest in his fellow
creatures.

"I followed the sea," he told them once, "and that's why I'm so handy all
round. But my passion be sporting, and now, having earned a little
competence, I've retired from the ocean and don't want to hear nor yet see
it no more. And you folk suit me and I suit you, so I'll put you first,
and if all goes well in the time to come, I dare say your lad, if not
yourselves, will be the gainers."

They was very pleased, of course, and Minnie showed it by fussing over the
man a bit and looking after his linen now and then and doing such chores
for him as he'd let her do; but he was very independent and, finding he
weren't over anxious for her and her husband to be in his house, though
always very willing to come to hers, she gave over her attempts to
befriend him in that direction. Little Joey, however, was always welcome
and he'd often drop in on the old sailor and never in vain. Teddy was fond
of sporting dogs and he'd got a lurcher bitch from somewhere, and when she
bore a litter, six weeks before Christmas, he had the thought to give Joey
the best of the bunch. When they was a fortnight old, he drowned all but
one, and on Christmas Eve, after the child was to bed and asleep, he took
the little dog over and stopped and had a drink and explained his purpose.

'Twas strange to 'em to hear the hard-faced, grim-looking chap talk so
tender of their only one; but they liked it well enough and fell in with
his wish. He'd promised to eat his Christmas dinner along with them and
Joey; but the pup was to come as a rare surprise next morning, and though
Minnie Ford didn't much hold with a young dog about her spick and span
home, she couldn't withstand the little silky creature, nor yet Teddy's
wish to pleasure the child.

"You do this, Minnie," he said, for he called the family by their
Christian names by now. "You keep the dog till dawn and then you put him
in the stocking, what's hanging at the foot of Joey's bed, along with your
own gifts afore you call him. Then first thing he sees when he rises up to
grab his toys will be the little dog atop of all the rest."

Which Minnie promised to do and did do, and Joey toddled over the minute
after he'd swallowed his breakfast to tell Mr. Pegram how 'Santa Claus'
had sent him the wonderfullest little dinky dog ever was seen.

"I'm the Santa Claus that sent it, my lovely cherub," said Teddy, kissing
his beautiful face; and 'Santa Claus' he was to Joey from that day
forward. It pleased the man well to be so called, and he got the nickname
in Joseph Ford's house and became 'Santa Claus' to all of 'em.

"There's much in a name," said Teddy, "and more in that one than you may
guess. For I was mate of a ship so called once on a time and had some of
my best voyages in her."

The friendship tightened after that Christmas and it weren't till many a
long month later and the fall of another year that anything happened to
strain it.

They had all got to be so friendly as you please and then in the 'Barley
Sheaf' one day, Joseph Ford heard Ned Chown laughing with a customer or
two, and, afore they knew it, he picked up a word. He didn't let 'em guess
he'd heard, however, but ordered his beer and spoke of something else,
which they was very willing to do; for Joseph happened to be a mighty
smart officer, and secret subjects sometimes got mentioned that weren't
meant for his ear.

It happened that poaching was in the air a good bit just then, for the big
Oakshott covers ran half a mile from Little Silver and there had been a
lot more trouble than usual that winter and the old head-keeper dismissed
and a younger and sterner man engaged from up North. But the robbery went
on and there's no doubt a lot of pheasants slipped away to an unknown
market. Joseph Ford was so keen as the game-keepers to lay the rogues by
the heels, for the police had heard a few hard words from the Lord of the
Manor on the subject; but the general opinion ran that some clever rascals
from far ways off in the South Hams were responsible; while the new keeper
from Yorkshire, who had a large experience of poachers' tricks, said most
steadfast that in his judgment it was local men with the advantages of
being on the spot. They raked the poulterers in three market towns round
about, but all gave a very good and straight account of their birds; and
the mystery interested us a lot, for, of course, Little Silver had its
doubtful customers like every other place.

And what Joseph Ford had heard, with a smothered laugh or two, was the
name of his fast friend, Teddy Pegram, along with the disappearance of the
Oakshott game. He gave no sign, but it hit him with a good bit of force,
because he'd marked one or two things himself that made him restless, and
he knew Teddy didn't pretend any great sorrow to think the pheasants were
being stole. The man loved sport, and farmers round about let him shoot
their rabbits and partridges also; but he knew very well pheasants were
different, though he always argued against all game laws. So Joseph
counted to give Teddy a word in season on the quiet, and he done so.

"I heard your name whispered in the public-house a few nights agone," he
said, "and I didn't like it too well, Pegram, because they named it along
with this here poaching. They little thought I'd heard, of course, and I
didn't undeceive 'em, but--there 'tis--and I'd avoid the appearance of
evil if I was you and bide in on moony nights, which we know very well you
do not."

The other showed much surprise to hear such a thing. He was playing along
with Joey and the little dog at the time, and teaching the puppy to learn
tricks. The creature was full of brains, as mongrels are apt to be, and
Joey loved it dearly, and loved the giver only less. He'd called it
'Choc,' because the puppy loved chocolates so well as Joey himself, and
the dog had grown to be his dearest treasure.

Well, Teddy gave over his games now and stood up and showed a great deal
of annoyance. His bead-black eyes flashed and his jaw stood out, as it
always did when he was vexed.

"Too bad!" he said, "and if I knew who the man was, I'd have him up for
libel I reckon. I may or may not agree about the damn birds, but I
wouldn't have made a policeman my fast friend in this place if I weren't a
straight man, and I'm a good bit surprised, Joseph, that you thought it
worth your while to name such a thing to me. And I'll go out of a moony
night when and where I please so long as it's a free country. So now
then!"

He sulked a bit and didn't come to see the Fords for a week, though Joey
was over often enough to see him, and Joseph felt rather interested to
mark how the little man had taken it. But then 'Santa Claus' made friends
again and came into Sunday supper and brought a pheasant along with him!

He made a lot of fun about it and pretended as he'd shot it in the coverts
over night; and presently he told Joseph that, if he wanted to run him in,
he'd best to go to Mercer's at Newton Abbot first and find out if he'd
bought it all decent and in order, or if he had not. So the matter
dropped, and all was firm friends again till the blow fell.

Poaching went on, and Joseph noted that Teddy was apt to be from home a
bit and would often go away for a day or two. And the new head-keeper, who
was sleepless on the job, traced where a car had come across one of the
drives in Oakshott's by night, for the wheels had scored the grass; and
where the thing had stood was a dead bird the blackguards had overlooked.

The pheasant had been shot roosting and an air-gun was the weapon, for
they found the slug in it.

And the next thing was that just afore the end of the season, Joseph Ford
set out to lend a hand with the job on his own, unknown to anybody but the
head-keeper. He worked out of his business hours and off the regular
policeman's beats, and the keeper, who now felt pretty sure one of his own
under-men was in it, and he'd got treachery to deal with, put Joseph up to
a secret plan. Oakshott's is a huge place and the six keepers kept there
couldn't be everywhere; but an unknown seventh man might steal a march on
the rogues and lie hid when 'twas given out the others were somewhere
else. And that was done by Joseph, with a very startling result.

The season had near reached an end, when on a quiet moonlight night in
January, Joseph kept his third secret watch at the edge of the North Wood.
He'd got there at dusk, being off duty at the time, and there he bided;
and then, just after moonrise, he saw a dog slip past him within ten
yards, and he knew the dog very well, and his heart sank.

Behind the lurcher came her master, and Teddy, with something in his hand
that glinted, popped by, silent as a ghost and was gone into the covers.

But Joseph knew he'd be bound to come out on the high road, same way he
went in, so he bided there and an hour passed and then twenty minutes
more, and meantime the policeman heard the purr of a motor and saw a small
car without lights draw up on the dark side of the lane twenty yards off.
There was only one man in it and Joseph felt glad there weren't more. He
chanced Pegram for a minute then and nipped out on the driver just as he
was lighting a cigarette. He proved to be a young fellow from so far off
as Torquay, and he didn't put up no fight whatever, feeling no fear on his
own account. He was working for wages and doing what he was told, and he
caved in at once and obeyed the policeman's orders, that worse might not
overtake him. So he sat tight and waited, and then Teddy Pegram and his
dog and his air-gun crept out of the woods with a load of ten birds. They
roosted in the spruce firs, you understand, and 'twas as easy to slay them
as blackbeetles, for Teddy's eyes, helped by the moon, marked 'em above
his head quick enough.

Then Joseph Ford walked out from behind the car and the little man saw his
games were ended, for Ford was a very powerful chap and could have eaten
him if he'd wanted to do so.

But Teddy used his tongue for all it was worth, though at first he didn't
guess he was up against it.

"Lucky 'twas you," he said. "If it had been your mate, I'd have met with a
difficulty. Very smart, Joseph! You've bowled me out all right, so we'll
cry quits and least said soonest mended."

But the policeman wasn't in no mood like that.

"Come, Pegram," he answered. "I'd sooner have took any man on earth but
you, and you've put me in a cruel fix, and that's all there is to it. Give
me that air-gun and get in the car and say nought if you please."

T'other had a lot to say, however. They talked for ten minutes, but the
poacher couldn't move the policeman, though he appealed to his friendship
and so on. Then Joseph saw a look that he never had seen afore in the
little man's eyes and was startled, but not afeared. For a minute Teddy
glared like a devil in the moonlight, and an awful evil expression fairly
flooded his face.

"Think twice," he said. "For God's sake think twice, Ford, afore you do
this. There's a lot more to me than you know--a lot I've thought to
overcome--suffering, misery, curses, disgrace. But if you take me to the
'cooler' to-night--hear me on my oath: you'll be sorry as long as you
live, for I'm built that way."

"I am sorry already," answered Joseph, "I'm as sorry as any living man can
be, and 'tis a bitter cruel thing for me that you've forced this upon me.
I warned you--most serious I done so--and what more could I do? You've
none to thank for this but yourself and you well know it. But my duty's my
duty, and I don't break my policeman's oath for you, or any man living."

"You ain't on duty to-night, however," replied Teddy.

"A policeman's always on duty," said Ford, "and 'tis vain to threat or
argue. I've got no choice."

But the other did argue still, and when he saw he was done, he threatened
also and said hard, terrible words. They went in one of Joseph's ears and
out of the other, of course, and he only wanted to get a painful job out
of hand by now. So he cut it short, and in another minute pretty well
lifted Teddy into the car and bade the driver carry 'em to Little Silver.

Pegram said no more after that, but a fiend glared out of his eyes as he
stared on the other, and Joseph, though he'd seen some hard cases, said
afterwards that he never wanted to look on such a wicked face again.

But the look was dead when they got to the police-station, and Ford
tumbled his man into a cell, then handed the pheasants over to the
Inspector and made his report.

There was a good deal of stir about it and some applause for the policeman
when the Justices gave Teddy two months' hard labour. And that was that.
But what you may call the interesting part of the affair happened after,
for when the two months was up, instead of selling his house and taking
himself off to practise his games elsewhere, if Teddy Pegram didn't return
to Little Silver, meek as Moses, and a reformed character!

Poor Joey, when he heard his dearest friend was in trouble, had wept a lot
of tears and took on very bad and even said hard things to his father for
catching 'Santa Claus' and sending him to prison. But he'd got resigned to
his loss, for two months is a long time in a child's mind. And he'd walk
every day to look at Pegram's house and pet the poacher's dog. 'Twas
thought the creature ought to be shot, and the head-keeper at Oakshott's,
who knew the cleverness of the animal, was strong for it; but humanity be
full of strange twists and the Squire himself it was who ordered the cur
should live and be tended.

"Let the dog be there to welcome him back," said the Squire in his easy
way. "The dog's done nothing but his duty and done it mighty well by all
accounts."

He was pleased, you see, because he'd got to the bottom of the mystery,
and he had a great trustful faith in human nature and hoped that Teddy
would turn from his bad ways after a taste of klink. And it certainly
looked as if the good man was right.

Little Joey would often take 'Choc' to see his mother on her chain at
Teddy's house while the man was put away. And he'd carry the poor creature
a tidy bone also when he could get one. And how long that two months was
to the lurcher, who shall say? But one fine morning Pegram was back again,
and he welcomed the child same as he'd already welcomed his dog, and Joey
went back full of great joy to say as his friend was home once more and
terrible pleased to see him. Which interested Joseph and Minnie Ford a
good bit, for they guessed that they'd made a bitter and dangerous enemy
in that quarter and little thought to see the man again. Yet he'd come
back and, more wonderful still, afore he'd been home a week, he made bold
to step in one night and shake their hands and say 'twas a very nice thing
to be home in his own den a free man! They felt mazed to see him among
'em, so cheerful and full of talk as if he'd been away for a holiday. And
Joseph wondered a lot and felt it on the tip of his tongue to name the
past and express friendly hopes for the future. But he didn't, and it
weren't till he saw 'Santa Claus' down to the gate on his way home, that
the little chap spoke.

"Say nought and try to forget," he said. "You done your duty and that's
all the best and worst of us can do. Be my friend, for I've got but few."

Then he was gone, and Joseph woke to a surer trust in humanity and felt
our common nature crying to him to believe it; while his own policeman's
nature warned him to do no such thing. He talked far into the night with
his wife; but she was all for believing.

"Us be Christians," said Minnie, "and well we know how the Lord works.
He's come to right thinking by chastisement, and his heart's softened and
never will I believe a man as loves the little ones like him be so very
bad. He's paid for what he done and, if he wants to forget and forgive,
'tis everybody's place to do the same."

"That sounds all right," granted Joseph. "And who be I to say he's not a
repentant man? But--you didn't see his face, with ten devils staring out
of his eyes, when I took him."

"Us'll watch and pray for him," answered Minnie. "My heart tells me the
poor man won't fall again."

And they left it at that and Minnie prayed and Joseph watched; and the
woman triumphed over her husband a good bit as time went on, for Teddy
Pegram never looked back so far as could be seen, until, little by little,
even Joseph felt that his spell in the jug had changed Teddy to a member
of society a good bit out of the common.

His friends reckoned that, when another autumn came, the strain would be
too much and the old poacher might be found to fall; but, as Ned Chown
pointed out, it weren't very likely as Pegram would fall again in the same
place.

"If he was minded to fall, he'd sling his hook and go and fall somewhere
else, where he weren't known," he said, and indeed Teddy had made the same
remark himself. He stuck to lawful sport and went his quiet way, until
that happened which looked as though he might soon be minded to flit.

In the fall he sold his cottage to Ned Chown, who owned a few little
dwellings already and was a great believer in the virtue of house
property; but Pegram only let the inn-keeper have it on one condition and
that was that he should be allowed to go on living in it while he chose to
do so. He explained to Joseph Ford that he never meant to leave Little
Silver; but that he was very poor and a thought pressed for money, and
glad to have the value of the house in his pocket again.

So another year passed over 'em all, and the end of the strange business
of 'Santa Claus' came on another Christmas Eve, when he dropped in to see
the Fords and express his friendship and good wishes. They'd quite slipped
back into the old, kindly understanding, and Joseph felt long since
convinced that his stern dealing had been the salvation of the man--a fact
Teddy himself often declared, without shame. They cared for him a lot by
now, and Minnie never tired of singing his praises, and the child never
felt a day well spent if his friend didn't come into it.

Joey was in bed and asleep before Pegram called in his character of 'Santa
Claus'; but he'd not forgot his gift and produced a fine box of sweets, to
be put on top of the child's stocking along with a Christmas card. He
looked in on sleeping Joey also and smiled to see the child in the land of
dreams with his dog asleep beside him. And then he gave Minnie a gift
also--a piece of very fine cloth to make herself a gown. And he promised
to come and eat his Christmas dinner along with them, which Joseph
insisted he should do. Ford was on night duty at the time and he left the
house with the old poacher and saw him to his own home, while good words
passed between them. Then young Ford went to his beat and wondered as he
walked at such a fine reformation, and felt proud of himself to think he'd
had a hand in it. Yet, though seldom it came uppermost in his thoughts, by
some chance, the ancient, awful look on Teddy's face rose to his mind that
Christmas Eve. Joseph had a theory, sure founded on Scripture, and he
stoutly believed that the poacher had harboured a devil in him in the
past.

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