Uncle Joe's Stories

Thus addressed, Steenie drew himself up to his full height, smiled upon his questioner as he had upon his father, and said very gravely. "No. Steenie not 'fraid. Good people help Steenie."

As this was immediately interpreted by all who heard him to mean that the half-witted lad was assured of supernatural assistance in any encounter which might ensue, it had a wonderfully comforting effect upon the whole party.

The courage which, in the case of most of them, had been "oozing out at their fingers' ends," suddenly and miraculously returned to its natural home in their hearts, and they began to encourage each other by speech and gesture, and to ask what there was to be afraid of.

Seeing his opportunity, Firminger used all his arts of persuasion, and the result was that those of the party who had not got beyond hearing when the above mentioned incident took place, wheeled boldly and bodily round, and retraced their steps towards the knoll-field, Firminger and Long leading the way, preceded by "Simple Steenie," who declined to walk with any of them, but trotted on ahead. As for Finn, he had disappeared and was no more seen that day, having been so completely overcome by the total failure of the great invocation to which he had pinned his faith, that he was incapable of further action for the time, and was indeed never quite the same man afterwards.

When the party got near the gate, there was no sign of anything unusual, but as soon as they set foot within the field, the same roaring arose which they had heard before, and the same smoke began to puff out from the knoll and to enwrap it once more in dark wreaths. At this moment Firminger, Long, and their followers suddenly started with surprise.

"Simple Steenie" was indeed walking before them, having left the trotting pace at which he had started, but he was no longer alone! A short, thick-set man, clad entirely in gray from head to foot, was leading the boy by the hand as they advanced together. In his hand he held a long staff, but otherwise appeared to be entirely unarmed. Whence he had sprung from no one could tell; they had not seen any of their own party rush forward, and certainly no one had descended from the knoll. However, there was the Gray Man, sure enough, and on he marched by "Simple Steenie's" side, as if they were the best friends in the world, and had long ago arranged the enterprise on which they were jointly bound. The others followed at a respectful distance, more and more astonished as matters went on.

The roaring continued and presently the same process was repeated as that which the people had previously witnessed and undergone. Figures moved rapidly amid the thick smoke, and ever and anon a lurid flame flashed from one side of the knoll to the other, affording a momentary glimpse of awful forms with threatening gestures directed towards those who appeared desirous to invade their territory.

Still "Simple Steenie" and his companion walked calmly on until they were within a very short distance of the knoll, when, as before, it opened, and a volume of cinders and ashes was again poured forth. But, at the same instant, the Gray Man raised his staff high above his head and shook it in the air. Suddenly, without a cloud in the sky or any appearance whatever of rain, a perfect torrent of water descended from the heavens upon the knoll, the effect of which was to produce just such a "fiz" as when you throw a tumbler of water upon the fire, only this sound was as if several hundred thousand tumblers had been thrown upon the same number of fires all at once, producing the loudest and most wonderful "fiz" that you can imagine. At the same moment a prolonged and terrible howl arose from inside the hill, as if the effects of the water had caused great discomfort therein.

Next happened a remarkable incident. The mouth of the knoll opened with the same kind of yawning action as has been already described, as if the same onslaught as before was about to be repeated. But instead of waiting for this, "Steenie" and the "Gray Man" both raised a loud shout, the latter brandished his staff once more over his head, and both of them rushed boldly forward into the mound, which immediately closed behind them. The bystanders were struck with horror and amazement.

Was the Gray Man in league with the enemy, and had he thus lured poor Steenie to his destruction? If so – why and whence the torrent of water, which had evidently not been relished by the inhabitants of the knoll? What on earth did it all mean?

For a few moments the whole party stood fearful and irresolute. Soon it became evident that warm work was going on inside the knoll. Shouts, yells, rumblings, howls, and the most discordant noises were heard within, whilst there were those among the people, and notably James Firminger and Bully Robus, who always declared that they heard, in and above the outcry, the word, "Dunstan! Dunstan!" repeated ever and anon, and the same thought crossed the minds of both of them at the same time, namely, that the appearance of the Gray Man greatly resembled the description of the great Saint Dunstan, so famous for the manner in which he tackled the arch-enemy upon one occasion with a pair of tongs, and whose name was said to be especially dreaded by all evil creatures.

Be this as it may, the noise had not continued above a minute or two, before the spirit of James Firminger became too much excited to allow of his remaining quiet any longer.

Calling to his companions to come on and help poor Steenie, he rushed boldly forward, and was followed by most of the others. But they were still several yards away from the scene of action, when they were stopped by an occurrence so extraordinary that no one who witnessed it ran the smallest chance of ever forgetting it.

The knoll burst open in at least twenty different places, and from it there issued the same sort of creatures as those who had previously attacked and routed the Mersham forces. But their aspect was now as completely changed as their behaviour. Cowering, shrieking, huddling together as if to escape some terrible pursuer, they rushed frantically away on all sides, with heart-rending cries of despair and anguish.

Then, in the very middle of the knoll, rushing after the retreating foe, appeared no less a personage than the Gray Man, flourishing his staff, and closely followed by "Simple Steenie," whose features were glowing with excitement, and whom they distinctly saw in the act of administering a violent kick to a repulsive-looking creature with a serpent's head and man's body, who was beyond all question an evil one of the worst description, but whose departure was much quickened by the action of the "innocent."

As everybody among the lookers-on was greatly confused and alarmed at the extraordinary spectacle suddenly presented to their view, one hardly knows how far it would be safe to rely upon the many different accounts which were afterwards given of the details of the transaction of which I am writing, and good Farmer Barrett always used to warn me against believing as gospel every particular of this part of the story.

However, there were many worthy people out upon this day who declared solemnly that among the strange and horrible creatures who were turned out of Aldington Knoll that day, they recognised the faces and features of several of their neighbours, dead and gone, who had been reputed witches in their life-times. And little Dick Broadfoot, the tailor of Mersham Street, an acute man as well as an honest, and one that would not willingly either lie or exaggerate, always took his bible oath that he saw, as plainly as he ever saw anything in his life, three awful creatures, with cats' heads and bodies, but with horns and wings, and with claws longer than any possessed by mortal cat, fly out of the mount and down the woods, each having fast hold of and carrying with it a form which writhed and struggled as if in fearful agony, but writhed and struggled in vain. And furthermore, Dick avowed that he saw – though how he had time to see it I don't know – he saw, I say, and knew it for a certain fact, that these three unhappy wretches were the three crones of Mersham, doubtless being carried off to their own place by the three evil ones who had hitherto served them under the form of cats.

Whether to believe the little tailor or not I hardly know, but Bully Robus backed him up in the story, and as the three crones never again appeared in that part of the world, it may have been quite true.

Certain it is that all those creatures who issued from the knoll in the way I have described were evidently driven out against their will, utterly defeated and brought to tribulation by a superior power. In a very short time they had utterly disappeared, a strong smell of sulphur being the only remaining token that they had ever been there, whilst upon the knoll, which had closed up behind them, "Simple Steenie" and his companion remained, standing alone in triumph.

The people saw the Gray Man lay his hand upon the lad's head for an instant, as if calling down a blessing upon him; then there came a mist or cloud over the knoll, and when they looked again, Steenie was standing alone. They hurried towards him, instinctively knowing that there was no more danger to be apprehended from the place, and he turned smilingly to meet them with an air of triumph.

"Steenie not 'fraid," he said. "Naughty people run 'way! All gone!"

But to all their questions about his late companion he could only answer by a vacant smile and incoherent words, which left them as ignorant as before. They had, however, the great consolation of knowing that, whether it had come about by the aid of "Simple Steenie's" innocent efforts, or whether the Gray Man had of his own accord planned the whole affair, and arranged for the discomfiture of the wicked ones, that discomfiture was certain and complete.

From that day forth Aldington Knoll has been a peaceful quiet spot, from whence the views to which I have already alluded may be contemplated without any fear of interference by any unpleasant inmates of the mound, for there are none worse than rabbits now. More might be told about some of the characters of our story, but short and casual allusions are not desirable, and to do more would be to lengthen the story too much. So I will leave my readers to fancy for themselves all that happened afterwards to John Gower and his family, as well as to Farmer Long, Simple Steenie, and all the rest of them. It is a good many years ago now since these things occurred, and the actors in the stirring scenes which I have related have long since passed away.

If I had not chronicled them now, from my recollection of good old Farmer Barrett's gossips, I dare say Jack Barrett – who is a careless fellow at best, and not equal to his father – (young men seldom are in these days, according to my opinion) would have told the story differently, and only in fragments, to his children, and they would have varied it again in telling it to their children, so that in a couple of generations it would have been quite uncertain, and the real truth never would have been known.

This is why I have thought it right to tell it. I drove down in my pony-carriage the other day, with a young lady by my side, to see the very spot where the crones' cottage used to stand, and to go through all the places where these scenes occurred. I could make them all out pretty clearly, though there is no vestige of the cottage left. We drove on to Bilsington and back towards Aldington by the same road that Mrs. Long and Tom the Bailiff drove, when they were taking the kitten back to the Gowers.

We did not see any witches for certain, and perhaps there are none left, though, as it is a good way from a railroad, I am not very sure on this point. In a secluded spot by one of the woods, there was the figure of a man seated by the side of the road breaking stones, and I thought there was something in his look more than common. It was on a hill, up which I was walking, and if I had been alone I might have stopped and tried to find out more. But as I did not want to run the least chance of the young lady with me being frightened, I only took care to walk on the side of the road between the pony-carriage and the figure, and as we passed it I laid my right hand on my heart, and pronounced that famous mystic word of power – Oh! I forgot, I must not write it, because that is forbidden, but if any little girl wants to know (boys are never curious, of course, so they won't mind not being told) she must just write me a pretty little letter and ask, and as I am very easily coaxed, I shall very likely either come and tell her, or make some arrangement by which she shall be able to find out for herself. It answered very well that day (as, indeed, it always does) and we got home quite safe. Home is the best place at which to leave one's friends, and therefore, having brought myself there in my writing, I think I will stop, and only hope that others beside myself will be interested in hearing the famous legend of the "Crones of Mersham."