Patricia at the inn

by J. C. Snaith

As Gamaliel Hooker sat cossetting himself beside the fire, this mysterious young man of the mariner’s dwelt much in his mind. A proscribed cavalier, he would stake his leg. Diggory Fargus lay with his boat in the Cove, waiting to take him out of England over the sea. As likely as not this fugitive was a person of consideration and great place, such was the mariner’s solicitude for his well-being. If that were the case, Parliament would know how to reward him who stayed his flight. Doubtless a specific reward was already upon his head. If Fortune directed him to the “Sea Rover,” Master Hooker shrewdly foresaw that he might have to choose between his greed and his personal safety. But there was a phrase also of the sailor’s that he would do well not to forget. He had hinted at a recompense that might exceed the dreams of his avarice. Plainly this fugitive was a person to be welcomed.

With one hand clasping the liquor-cup, the landlord presently fell into a doze. Even in this state of semi-consciousness, the unknown young man still ran much in his mind. Once the sleeper started up and thought he heard his knock upon the door. It was but a coal that had fallen on the hearth. He looked into the fire and saw his picture there. A very handsome, proud young man, with curls on his shoulders and great diamonds glistening on his hands. But farther back in the bright embers was the face of the ugly sailor glowering behind it, with his earrings, his knife, and his strong two hands.

Suddenly the landlord jumped up from his stool with a little cry. He ran to the window and pressed his ear against the drawn shutters. The silence of the wintry night had been invaded by strange sounds. At first they were so remote that their nature was hardly to be distinguished. But presently they grew plain. Horses!

Hoofs were on the frosty road. The music of iron upon adamant rang nearer at every clock-tick. They were coming to the inn. What could it mean? Gamaliel was not expecting visitors to-night. Yet stay, he was! Was there not this young man of the sailor’s? Again Gamaliel put his ear to the shutter, to withdraw it suddenly, however, with a spasm of fear.

It was not one horse alone on the road; rather a company. He had heard the rattle of sword and breast-piece; besides, the regulated manner of approach told the nervous landlord that the law had come to his inn at last. For years he had expected it. But now it was at his threshold, God knew he was in no case to greet it. Could it be that his misdemeanours, stealthy and hidden as they were, had been uncovered, and that now he was to be called on to pay the penalty!

For a minute the landlord faltered. He surrendered his mind to fear. Again the sweat burst out of him; it glistened on his white cheeks; he could not restrain the convulsive twitch of his old, irresolute hands. It was for only a minute, however. Gamaliel’s mind recurred to the fugitive of the mariner’s, and once more he became himself. Of course, these on-coming soldiers were seeking that mysterious youth. What a fool he was to be frightened so easily!

In the comfort of this thought Master Gamaliel wiped the sweat from his face, drained his glass, and made ready to receive his unwelcome visitors grandly. He opened his portals, even before they knocked upon them; and, standing in the full light of the fire and the candles as it met the darkness and the sea-fog, he inquired their pleasure with a bow and his hand on his heart.

Through the driving mists of the night, steaming horses, and cold, rime-coated men clad in morions and corselets of steel, were visible. The foremost of these soldiers sprang from his steed briskly and strode past the landlord into the warm kitchen of the inn. He was a nimble, ruddy little fellow, with a human look to his countenance, and, for all the cold night, a cheerful way with him.

“Landlord,” said he, clapping his wet form to the face of the fire, “you see us highly in need of your kindness. Brew us your hottest posset in your biggest bowl, and waste no time upon it. We have come far, but we have further to go by many a weary mile, unless our fortune is kinder than it promises.”

“Yes, yes, Captain, to be sure,” said the landlord; “you shall drink of the best of my poor hostelry, and that right speedily.”