HOW YOUNG TORODE TOOK THE DEVIL OUT OF BLACK BOY
It was a day of days—a perfect Midsummer Day. The sky was blue without a cloud, the blaze of the gorse was dimming, but the ferns and foxgloves swung in the breeze, the hedgerows laughed with wild roses and honeysuckle, and the air was full of life and sweetness and the songs of larks and the homely humming of bees. And here was I come back from the Florida swamps and all the perils of the seas, jogging quietly along on that moving nosegay Gray Robin, with the arms of the fairest maid in all Sercq round my waist, and the brim of her hat tickling my neck, and her face so close to my shoulder that it was hard work not to turn and kiss it.
My mind was, set to make the most of my good fortune, but the thought of young Torode, and of Carette riding back with him, kept coming upon me like an east wind on a sunny day, and I found myself more tongue-tied than ever I had been with her before, even of late years.
Did she care for this man? Had his good looks, which I could not deny, cast dust in her eyes? Could she be blind to his black humours, which, to me, were more visible even than his good looks?
From what Aunt Jeanne had said, he was by way of being very well off. And perhaps the results of the Miss Maugers' teachings would incline a girl to consider such things. I thought they probably would. I know they made me feel shy and awkward before her, though I told myself furiously that all that was only a matter of outside polish, and that inside I was as worthy of her as any, and loved her as none other could. But the outside she could see, and the inside she could not, and I could not yet tell her, though I could not but think she must know.
And then, what had I to offer her in place of Torode's solid advantages? Just myself, and all my heart, and two strong arms. They were good things, and no one in the world could love her as I did. But, to a girl brought up as she had been of late, would they be enough? And would these things satisfy her father, who had always been much of a mystery to us all, and who might have his own views as to her future, as the education he had given her seemed to indicate?
I had plenty to think about as we jogged along on Gray Robin, and Carette was thoughtful too.
Now and again, indeed, the clinging arms would give me a convulsive hug which set my blood jumping, but that was only when Gray Robin stumbled, and it meant nothing more than a fear of falling overboard on her part, and I could not build on it.
We chatted, by snatches, of the party and of things that had happened in my absence. But of the sweet whispers and little confidences which should set all riders on Riding Day above all the rest of the world, there were none between us, and at times we fell to silence and a touch of constraint.
THE EPERQUERIE. Above the shoulder of the hill to the left, JETHOU just appears; the larger island with the long painted beak is HERM, with her string of islets like a fleet of ships speeding to the north. The lower of the two out-jutting headlands is where the Herm men landed. The higher is BEC DU NEZ, the most northerly point of SARK.
On Eperquerie Common I got down, and led Gray Robin cautiously over the long green slopes among the cushions of gorse and the waist-high ferns, and down the rocky way to the knoll above the landing-place. And as we sat on the soft turf among the empty shells, looking out over the long line of weather-bitten headlands and tumbled rocks, with the blue sea creaming at their feet, I suppose I must have heaved a sigh, for Carette laughed and said—
"Ma fé, but you are lively to-day, Phil."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I was thinking of the old times when we used to scramble about here as merry as the rock pipits. They were very happy days, Carette."
"Yes," she nodded, "they were happy days. But we've grown since then."
"One can't help growing, but I don't know that it makes one any happier."
"Tell me all you did out there," she said, and I lay in the sunshine and told her of our shipwreck, and of the Florida swamps, and of the great city of London through which I had come on my way home. And then, somehow, our talk was of the terrible doings in France, not so very many years before, of which she had never heard much and I only of late. It was probably the blue line of coast on the horizon which set us to that, and perhaps something of a desire on my part to show her that, if she had been learning things at the Miss Maugers, I also had been learning in the greater world outside.
It was very different from the talk that usually passes between riders on Riding Day. For every horse that day is supposed to carry three, though one of them nestles so close between the others that only bits of him may be seen at times in their eyes and faces.
But it was all no use. With young Torode in my mind, and Jean Le Marchant's probable intentions respecting Carette, and Carette's own wonderful growth which seemed to put us on different levels, and the smallness of my own prospects,—I could not bring myself to venture any loverly talk, though my heart was full of loving thoughts and growing intention.
I had been telling her of the doings in Paris, and in Nantes and elsewhere, and she had been dreadfully interested in it all, when suddenly she jumped up with a sharp—
"Phil, you are horrid to-day. I believe you have been telling me all these things just because Monsieur Torode is a Frenchman."
"Torode?—Pardie, I had forgotten Torode for the moment! He is too young to have had any hand in those doings, anyway."
"All the same he is a Frenchman, and it was Frenchmen who did them."
"And you think I was hitting at him behind his back! It is not behind his back I will hit him if needs be and the time comes. But I had no thought of him, Carette. These are things I heard but lately, and I thought they might be of interest to you. Did you ever know me strike a foul blow, Carette?" I asked hotly.
"No, never! I was wrong, Phil. Let us ride again and forget the heads tumbling into the baskets and those horrid women knitting and singing."
So we climbed the rocky way, and then I got Gray Robin alongside a rock, and we mounted without much loss and went our way down the lanes in somewhat better case. For I was still somewhat warm at her thinking so ill of me, and she, perceiving it, did her best to make me forget it all.
And now we began to meet other merry riders, and their outspoken, but mistaken, congratulations testified plainly to the Island feeling in favour of Island maids mating with Island men, and perhaps made Carette regret her Solomon-like decision of the night before. It made me feel somewhat foolish also, at thought of what they would say when they saw her riding back with young Torode.
A cleverer man would, no doubt, have turned it all to account, but I could not. All I could do was to carry it off as coolly as possible to save Carette annoyance, and to affect a lightness and joviality which were really not in me.
And some of these meetings were full of surprise for Carette, but mostly they only confirmed her expectations. For girls have sharp eyes in such matters and generally know how things are going, and I have no doubt she and Aunt Jeanne talked them over together. And there was not much went on in Sercq without Aunt Jeanne knowing all about it.
And so it would be—
"Who is this, then? Elie Guérin and—ma fé—Judith Drillot! Now that's odd, for I always thought—"
"Perhaps they're Only pretending," I murmured, and Carette kicked her little heels into Gray Robin's ribs so hard that she nearly fell off at his astonished jump.
"B'jou, Judi! B'jou, Elie! Good luck to you!" she cried, as they drew rein alongside, their faces radiant with smiles both for themselves and for us.
"Now, mon Gyu, but I am glad to see you again, Phil Carré, and to see you two together!" said Elie, with the overflowing heartiness of a fully-satisfied man.
"Oh, we're only just taking a ride to see how other folks are getting on," I said. "Carette exchanges me for Monsieur Torode later on. You see I only got home last night and he had asked her already."
"Mon Gyu!" gasped Judi, and we waved our hands and rode on, leaving them gaping.
Then it would be—
"Mon Gyu! That's all right! Here are Charles Hamon and Nancy Godfray come together at last. And high time too! They've been beating about the bush till we're all tired of watching them. B' jou, Nancy! B' jou, Charles! All joy to you!"
There were many such meetings, for we could see the riders' heads bobbing in every lane. And twice we met young Torode, galloping at speed, and showing to great advantage on Black Boy, whose ruffled black coat was streaked with sweat and splashed with foam, and who was evidently not enjoying himself at all.
"I'm getting the devil out of him so that he'll be all quiet for the afternoon," cried Torode, as he sped past us one time. And Gray Robin tried to look after his mate, and jogged comfortably along thanking his stars that if he did feel somewhat of a fool, he had decent quiet folk on his back, and was not as badly off as some he knew that day.
So we came along the horse tracks down by Pointe Robert and crossed the head of the Harbour Road, past Derrible, and heard the sea growling at the bottom of the Creux, and then over Hog's Back into Dixcart Valley, and so, about noon, into the road over the Common which led to the Coupée.
Most of our friends were already there,—some on this side waiting to cross, the more venturesome sitting in the heather and bracken on the farther side, with jokes and laughter and ironical invitations to the laggards to take their courage in their hands and come over.
There was quite a mob in the roadway on the Common, the girls sitting on their horses, most of the men on foot.
"How is the path?" I asked, as I got down for a look.
"I've seen it better and I've seen it worse," said Charles Vaudin. "But, all the same, you know,—on horseback—" and he shook his head doubtfully.
"When it's only your own feet you have to look after it's right enough," said Elie Guérin. "But when it's a horse's and they're four feet apart it's a different kind of game. I'm going to lead over, let those others say what they will. Will you walk, Judi, or will you ride? I can lead the old boy all right."
"I can trust you, mon gars," said the girl, and kept her seat while Elie led the horse slowly and cautiously over the narrow way, with possible death in every foot of it. And all the rest watched anxiously.
The path was at this time about four feet wide in most places, crumbly and weather-worn here and there, but safe enough for ordinary foot traffic. But even so—without a rail on either side, with the blue sea foaming and chafing among the rocks three hundred feet below, and horribly visible on both sides at once—the twisted path when you were on it felt no more than a swinging thread.
It was not every head that could stand it, and small blame to those that could not.
Here and there, in the three hundred feet stretch, great rock pinnacles stood out from the precipitous depths and overshadowed the path, and encouraged the wayfarer by offering him posts of vantage to be attained one by one. But they were far apart, and at best it was an awesome place even on foot, while with a horse the dangers were as plain as the path itself.
Still it was a point of honour to cross the Coupée on Riding Day, and some even compassed it cautiously without dismounting, and took much credit to themselves, though others might call it by other names.
Some of the girls preferred to take no risks, and got down and walked wisely and safely, amid the laughter and good-humoured banter of the elect, across the gulf. Most, however, showed their confidence in their swains, and at the same time trebled their anxieties, by keeping their seats and allowing their horses to be led across.
Young Torode came galloping across the Common while Gray Robin and Carette and I were still waiting our turn. He reined in Black Boy with a firm hand, and the ruffled black sides worked like bellows, and the angry black head jerked restively, and the quick-glancing eyes looked troubled and vicious.
Torode laughed derisively as Elie Guérin set out with cautious step to lead his old horse over, with Judith Drillot clutching the saddle firmly and wearing a face that showed plainly that it was only a stern sense of duty to Elie that kept her up aloft.
"Ma foi!" laughed Torode. "He would do it better in a boat. It's well seen that Monsieur Guérin was not born to the saddle. Has no one ridden across yet?"
"But yes,—Helier Godfray rode over all right. All the same—" said one, with a shrug and shake of the head.
"It's as easy as any other road if you've got a steady head and a firm hand," said Torode.
"Will you ride, Carette, or walk?" I asked. "I shall lead Gray Robin."
She looked down into my eyes for one moment, and I looked up into hers. She did not like the Coupée, I knew, but she would not put me to shame.
"I will ride," she said.
"You're never going to lead across, Carré?" cried Torode. "And with a horse like a Dutch galliot! Man alive! let me take him over for you!—Shall I?" and he bustled forward, looking eagerly up at Carette.
"Stand back!" I said brusquely. "You'll have quite enough to do to take yourself across, I should say," and we were off.
"I'll bring you back on Black Boy," cried Torode consolingly to Carette.
Gray Robin's mild eyes glanced apprehensively into the depths as we went slowly over, and his ears and nostrils twitched to and fro at the growl of the surf down below on either side. I held him firmly by the head and soothed him with encouraging words. The old horse snuffled between gratitude and disgust, and Carette clung tightly up above, and vowed that she would not cross on Black Boy whatever Torode might say.
She was devoutly thankful, I could see, when Gray Robin stepped safely onto the spreading bulk of Little Sercq. I lifted her down, and loosed the old horse's bit and set him free for a crop among the sweet short grasses of the hillside, while we sat down with the rest to watch the others come over.
Caution was the order of the day. Most of the girls kept their seats and braved the passage in token of confidence in their convoys. Some risked all but accident by meekly footing it, and accepted the ironical congratulations on the other side as best they might.
Young Torode had waited his turn with impatience. He and Black Boy were on such terms that the latter would have made a bolt for home if the grasp on his bridle had relaxed for one moment. Again and again his restlessness had suffered angry check which served only to increase it. Neither horse nor rider was in any state for so critical a passage as the one before them. There was no community of feeling between them, except of dislike, and the backbone of a common enterprise is mutual trust and good feeling.
To do him that much justice, Torode must have known that under the circumstances he was taking unusual risk. But he had confidence in his own skill and mastery, and no power on earth would have deterred him from the attempt.
He leaped on Black Boy, turned him from the gulf and rode him up the Common. Then he turned again and came down at a hand gallop, and reaped his reward in the startled cries and anxious eyes of the onlookers. The safe sitters in the heather on the farther side sprang up to watch, and held their breath.
"The fool!" slipped through more clenched teeth than mine.
The stones from Black Boy's heels went rattling down into the depths on either side. The first pinnacles were gained in safety. Just beyond them the path twisted to the right. Black Boy's stride had carried him too near the left-hand pillar. An angry jerk of the reins emphasised his mistake. He resented it, as he had resented much in his treatment that morning already. His head came round furiously, his heels slipped in the crumbling gravel, he kicked out wildly for safer holding, and in a moment he was over.
At the first feel of insecurity behind, Torode slipped deftly out of the saddle. He still held the reins and endeavoured to drag the poor beast up. But Black Boy's heels were kicking frantically, now on thin air, now for a second against an impossible slope of rock which offered no foothold. For a moment he hung by his forelegs curved in rigid agony, his nostrils wide and red, his eyes full of frantic appeal, his ears flat to his head, his poor face pitiful in its desperation. Torode shouted to him, dragged at the reins—released them just in time.
Those who saw it never forgot that last look on Black Boy's face, never lost the rending horror of his scream as his forelegs gave and he sank out of sight, never forgot the hideous sound of his fall as he rolled down the cliff to the rocks below.
The girls hid their faces and sank sobbing into the heather. The men cursed Torode volubly, and regretted that he had not gone with Black Boy.
And it was none but black looks that greeted him when, after standing a moment, he came on across the Coupée and joined the rest.
"It is a misfortune," he said brusquely, as he came among us.
"It is sheer murder and brutality," said Charles Vaudin roughly.
"Guyabble! It's you that ought to be down there, not yon poor brute," said Guérin.
"Tuts then! A horse! I'll make him good to Hamon."
"And, unless I'm mistaken, you promised him not to ride the Coupée," I said angrily, for I knew how George Hamon would feel about Black Boy.
"Diable! I believe I did, but I forgot all about it in seeing you others crawling across. Will you lend me your horse to ride back, Carré? Mademoiselle rides home with me."
"Mademoiselle does not, and I won't lend you a hair of him."
"That was the understanding. Mademoiselle promised."
"Well, she will break her promise,—with better reason than you had. I shall see her safely home."
"Right, Phil! Stick to that!" said the others; and Torode looking round felt himself in a very small minority, and turned sulkily and walked back across the Coupée.
The pleasure of the day was broken. Black Boy's face and scream and fall were with us still, and presently we all went cautiously back across the narrow way. And no girl rode, but each one shuddered as she passed the spot where the loose edge of the cliff was scored with two deep grooves; and we others, looking down, saw a tumbled black mass lying in the white surf among the rocks.