Ralph Clavering: or, We Must Try Before We Can Do

Lilly was very much inclined to say, “Speak for yourself, cousin Ralph; I believed your boastful assertions, and trusted myself to you.”

Instead of that, she only said, “Still we must try to save ourselves. We ought, at all events, to try to reach the bank. Ah! what is this?” She lifted up a loose board from the bottom of the boat: “Here, do you use this as a paddle, and give me the oar. We shall be able to guide the boat if we try.”

Ralph, once more roused, took the plank and used it as his cousin directed. Still, from want of skill, they made but little progress. The other oar had been caught in an eddy, and had been drifted so far away, that they had lost sight of it altogether. As they were exerting themselves with might and main, their attention was aroused by a shout, and looking up, they saw a man standing on the bank and waving the lost oar. This encouraged them; while the roar of the cataract, a little way below, made them still more feel the necessity of exertion. The boat was, of course, all the time drifting down, sideways, nearer and nearer to the dangerous spot. Still they were approaching the shore. The man with the oar ran along the bank. They had got within twenty yards of it, when the current seemed to increase in rapidity. The man shouted to them to use more exertion, but that was beyond their power. Poor Lilly’s arms were already aching, and her hands were hot and blistered with the oar. Glancing on one side, they could see the ledge of rocks against which the river rushed, breaking into a mass of foam. It seemed impossible that they could reach the bank before they got within its influence. The man with the oar, seeing their danger, sprang forward and swam out towards them. He was not, apparently, a very good swimmer, but he struggled on.

“He’ll be drowned, and do us no good,” cried Ralph.

“Oh, no! I pray God that he may be preserved!” exclaimed Lilly, with a fervour, which showed that the expression came from her heart, and was truly a prayer.

It was heard, the man struggled on, and seized the stem of the boat.

“Go back to the other end,” he cried out; and, as Ralph obeyed the order, he threw in the oar, and climbed up himself over the bow. Without speaking a word more, he seized both oars, and began rowing away with might and main towards the shore. Only then did Lilly and her cousin discover that the stranger was no other than Arnold, the gipsy.

“Why, Arnold, we little thought that it was you!” they exclaimed in the same breath.

“No time to talk,” was the answer. “I’ll tell you when we are all safe.”

In a few seconds the boat reached the land. Ralph shuddered when he saw how short a distance they were above the place where the waters, raging and foaming, dashed over the rocks. Lilly remarked, also, the great danger they had escaped. Her first impulse was to offer their gratitude to God for their preservation; her next was, to thank the gipsy for the effort he had made on their behalf.

“But you will surely catch cold, Arnold, if you remain in your wet things,” said Lilly.

“No fear for me, young lady,” he answered; “I am seasoned for all weathers, and a little wetting will do me no harm; but, I’m thinking that you young people will be wishing to get home again. How are you to do it?”

“My cousin said that he would row back,” answered Lilly, with a glance at Ralph, indicative of her real opinion on the subject.

“Perhaps, then, you’ll give me a passage, Master Ralph,” said the gipsy. “It’s a long way round by land, and the roads, such as they are, are not a little muddy in some places, and rough in others.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll row you round – or, that is to say, you shall go round in the boat if you will take the oars, for I feel rather tired after rowing all the way down,” replied Ralph, looking very sheepish.

“Well, young gentleman, after my wetting it will be wise to keep in exercise; so, sit down, and I will try what I can do,” said Arnold, taking the oars in a way which showed that he was accustomed to their use.

He put the boat in motion, but instead of rowing out in the stream, he kept close in with the bank, following all its sinuosities, so as to avoid the opposing current. He bent sturdily to the oars, and sent the boat so rapidly through the water, that she went up the stream even faster than she had descended it when Ralph was rowing. For some time he said nothing; perhaps he felt rather ashamed of himself, but if such was the case the feeling wore off. Arnold made the boat skim over the water so easily, that at last he began to fancy that he could do the same. Surely he could do everything better than a wretched gipsy, who only the other day was almost starving.

Meantime, Lilly had asked Arnold after his wife and family, and how he had happened to be on the bank of the river at a moment so opportune for her and Ralph.

“The questions, sweet lady, are easily answered,” said Arnold. “My wife and children are as well as scant food and hard living will allow them. We are camped about a mile from where you saw me. Knowing of old that the river is full of fish, I had gone to catch some. I had only just thrown in my line when I caught sight of your boat, and guessed that you would be the better for any help I could give you.”

“Then your family will lose the supper you expected to catch for them, and will not know what has become of you,” said Lilly.

“They are too well accustomed to go without supper to complain of that,” said Arnold; “and as to not knowing what has become of me, we make it a rule never to trouble ourselves if one or the other does not appear at the time expected. We suppose that the absent one has some good reason for not coming back to camp. We gipsies do not allow ourselves to have more cares than we can help. It is all very well for the rich who live in fine houses, and ride in fine carriages, and wear fine clothes, and have more food than they can eat, to make cares for themselves; that would never do for us.”

Ralph thought that the gipsy was growing rather impertinent in his observations; yet, as Lilly encouraged him by her remarks, he said nothing. They had for some time re-entered the tributary stream, and were proceeding quickly up it. At last, Ralph, having recovered his confidence, insisted on taking the oars, he had contemplated desiring Arnold to get out, but he had a suspicion that Lilly would not approve of such a proceeding. Arnold, without hesitation, relinquished his seat, and allowed him to take the oars.

Ralph at first rowed away sturdily enough, but the boat at once began to go on one side, and then to cross over to the other side of the stream; and even Ralph could not help discovering that instead of progressing upwards, the boat was once more dropping down with the current.

“I cannot tell how it is,” he exclaimed at last, in a tone of vexation, “there is something or other prevents me from managing the boat as I used. The oars have been changed, or they have been doing something to the boat.”

Lilly’s lips curled, but she saw that her cousin was not in a humour to bear any quizzing; so she merely said —

“Never mind then, Ralph; let Arnold take the oars and row us home as fast as he can, for I am afraid that Uncle and Aunt Clavering will be very anxious about us, if they hear the report John Hobby is likely to give.”

“He’d better not have said anything – that’s all,” growled Ralph, looking as if he could annihilate the low-born Hobby, had he dared to commit such an atrocity.

Happily for that individual, now so unconscious of evil, nearly an hour elapsed after this ere the boat reached the landing-place near the Hall. There stood Hobby.

“I am truly glad to see you – that I am!” he exclaimed, honest satisfaction lighting up his countenance. “I was terribly alarmed you would never get back of your own selves – indeed I was, let me tell you.”

Ralph was going to make an angry reply to what he considered Hobby’s impertinent remarks, but Lilly interrupted him —

“You are right, John Hobby,” she said, kindly. “If it had not been for our friend Arnold here, we might never have got back at all; and had we followed your advice we should have saved ourselves a great deal of anxiety, and not have been exposed to the great danger from which we have been preserved.”

“As to the danger, it’s all well that ends well, Miss,” remarked Hobby, bluntly. “But I do hope Master Ralph won’t be taking you on the water again till he’s learnt to row properly.”

“Make the boat fast, and take the oars away with you!” exclaimed Ralph, walking off homewards.

“Stop, cousin! You have not thanked Arnold, or asked him to come up to the Hall, where I am sure Uncle and Aunt Clavering would wish to see him,” cried Lilly; but Ralph was so angry with Hobby’s remarks, that he would not return.

“Do not trouble him, young lady,” said Arnold, casting a glance after the young heir of Clavering Hall, in which he did not conceal his contempt. “I do not require his thanks, nor any reward from him or his. You show me by your looks that you thank me, and that pays me more than enough.”

“Oh, but his father and mother will not be satisfied with that; they will wish to repay you,” answered Lilly. “And besides, your wife and children are not well off; some money or some clothing will be of use to them, surely.”

“I’ll not deny it; but we value such things less than you fancy, young lady,” said the gipsy. “We have enough for the present, and we do not trouble ourselves much as to what is to come. But I won’t keep you talking. The young gentleman has just remembered that he ought to wait for you, and is sitting down on the bank there. He thinks himself very rich and very important, and that he can do everything, I daresay; but if he knew all about himself that I know about him, he would act more kindly towards others and think less of himself. You may tell him so whenever you like from me.”

The meaning of this last remark did not strike Lilly at the moment. She still pressed Arnold to come to the Hall, but he declined, saying that he must of necessity go back to his family. Lilly again expressing her thanks, hurried after Ralph, who did not recover his self-complacency till they reached the Hall.

Chapter Six

When Mr and Mrs Clavering heard Lilly’s version of the boating expedition, they were anxious to repay Arnold for the service he had rendered; but when they sent over a servant on horseback to the locality where he had said his tents were pitched, he was not to be found. Lilly was extremely sorry to hear this. She wished also to express her gratitude more fully than she had before done, and although he had refused to receive any reward, she had hopes that his wife and children would be willing to accept any presents she might be able to give them. Every effort, however, made by Mr Clavering to discover him proved unavailing. Perhaps his steward, whom he employed, did not take as much pains as he might have done. Ralph and Lilly went on much as they had been accustomed to do. Although Lilly often asked Ralph, when he was going to take her for another excursion on the water, he invariably offered some excuse. She observed also that he never went near the river if he could help it, and that he invariably seemed much annoyed whenever John Hobby’s name was mentioned. It was evident that he had not forgotten the remarks made by honest John about his rowing. Sometimes Lilly suspected that he had even some stronger reason for disliking the young peasant. She feared that it was from the meanest of all reasons, jealousy. Hobby was better looking and more active, and excelled him in all athletic exercises. Hobby also was very good-natured, and had a great deal of humour, so that he was a general favourite among all who knew him in the country round. Ralph felt annoyed that one so much his inferior in birth, wealth, and education should in all other respects be his superior.

Again Lilly felt almost in despair that Ralph would ever become what he ought to be. She was a sensible and wise girl, and had not formed too high a standard of perfection, but still there was a standard which she knew he could and ought to reach, and she did not feel disposed to be satisfied with any measure below it. She had flattered herself that she had got him out of many of his bad habits, but he had fallen back into most of them, and she found that the influence, which she fancied she had gained over him, was in no way secured. He mixed as before, whenever he had an opportunity, with low associates, and he used to abuse and swear at all around him at the slightest provocation. As a young boy, this conduct had only met with contempt, but as he grew older it gained him every day fresh enemies, so that there was scarcely a person in the district round who was so much disliked.

During the last few years a great and happy change has taken place among the peasantry of England, and except a limited number of Chartists and other ill-instructed persons mostly confined to the towns, it may truly be said that the whole of the population is contented and orderly and patient under inevitable suffering and poverty. It was not so formerly, and directly they began to suffer from a scarcity of provisions or low wages, their only idea of remedying the evil, was to burn or destroy the property of their more wealthy and prosperous neighbours. Bad times, as they were called, were now occurring, and the whole rural population, especially in the neighbourhood of Clavering Hall, were in a state of great discontent. Incendiary fires were of nightly occurrence throughout the country. Not only haystacks, but wheat-stacks and barns and farm buildings were set on fire. This way which the country people took of showing their suffering was both very wicked and exceedingly foolish, but it proved indubitably that something or other required amendment. The magistrates took very naturally a somewhat one-sided view of the case, and regarding the people as evil-disposed and rebellious, employed the most stringent measures to repress these outrages. Whenever any supposed incendiaries were caught they seldom escaped conviction and were always punished with the utmost severity. Mr Clavering especially was conspicuous for the zeal with which he hunted down offenders and the unrelenting sternness with which he brought them to punishment. He, in consequence, brought upon himself a large amount of odium, and coupled with his conduct generally towards the peasantry, it made him probably the most unpopular man in the county. While the proud owner of Clavering Hall was the most unpopular, the poor tenant of one of his humble cottages was one of the most popular. This was no other than John Hobby. Hobby’s popularity arose from several causes. A good deal of it was owing to the estimation in which his son was held, while he himself was looked upon as a hearty, good-natured fellow, ever ready with his tongue or his single stick to stand up for a friend or to defend the right; but, above all this, he had been falsely accused and tried on the charge of an act of incendiarism or of instigating others to commit it, and likewise of afterwards heading a number of persons who had committed various lawless acts. After a long imprisonment John Hobby had proved his innocence, and not being of either a humble or forgiving temper, he was not backward in speaking on all occasions of the way in which he had been treated. The summer passed away, the autumn came round, and matters grew worse. Lilly Vernon, however, rode out as usual, fearless of evil. Sometimes her uncle accompanied her, at others Ralph condescended to do so; but more usually of late she was followed by a groom, one of the most respectable and honest of the household. She had one day gone a considerable distance from home, when as she was walking her horse up a hill, with a copse wood on either side, she saw among the trees a small fire with a tent and carts near it, and the other usual features of a gipsy encampment. “Perhaps that is Arnold’s camp,” she said to herself, and just then she caught sight of the gipsy himself coming along the road. As soon as he perceived who it was he hurried towards her.

“I was coming this very day to watch for you near the Hall, young lady,” he said, putting his hand on her horse’s neck. “You wished, I know, to do me a service, and you have it now in your power to help me. My eldest boy has been taken up by the constables on a charge of setting fire to Farmer Low’s haystacks. He is innocent of the crime, for crime I hold it; but he is a gipsy, he was taken near the spot, and it will go hard with him. Your uncle has an affection for you, and will listen to the truth from your lips. If you put the matter before him, and tell him whose son the lad is, may be he will exert himself in his favour. Though he is a hard man, he is not one to let the innocent suffer.”

Lilly willingly promised to do all that the gipsy asked. Having paid a visit to his wife and children, who warmly welcomed her, she hurried homeward. On her return she met considerable bodies of men proceeding along the road, all armed with scythes, or hooks, or sticks. On enquiring of the groom what they were about his only reply was, “They are up to some mischief, Miss, but it’s as much as my life’s worth to ask them. I did not like their looks as they passed, and cast their eyes on the Clavering livery.”

On reaching the Hall Lilly hastened to find her uncle, who was at home, and without saying anything of what she had just seen, laid the young gipsy’s case before him and placed the evidence of his innocence in so clear a light that he at once promised he would befriend him. She had promised the gipsy’s wife to ride out the next day to tell her of the success of her petition.

To assist in keeping down the disturbances which have been mentioned, the yeomanry were called out. The magistrates announced that the next time a mob assembled for mischief they should be fired on, and ridden down without mercy. No one was louder than Ralph Clavering in asserting that this was the only way to treat them.

“I cannot help thinking, cousin, that milder measures would answer better,” observed Lilly; “I would rather go unarmed among them, and show them the folly and wickedness of their proceedings.”

“You are very wise, Lilly, but you know nothing of the management of men,” answered Ralph, contemptuously.

A body of cavalry had been quartered near Clavering Hall for some time, but information being brought that an outbreak was expected in a town in the other end of the county they were immediately ordered off in that direction.

A number of guests were assembled that day at the Hall at dinner. The cloth had just been removed, when the butler hurried in, and with a pale face and a trembling voice, announced the startling fact that one of the grooms had met a large body of armed men marching up through the park. His report was so circumstantial that there was no doubt about the matter. Some of the ladies took the matter calmly enough, others gave utterance to various expressions of terror, while the gentlemen were unanimous in the opinion that the windows and doors should be instantly barricaded, and that the Hall should be defended to the last if attacked. Not a moment was to be lost. There was no time to take out the sashes, but the shutters of all the lower rooms were closed and barred, as also were the doors, and chests of drawers, and tables and chairs were piled against them.