CHAPTER VI AN INTERRUPTED ADDRESS

Imagine a long, bare-looking apartment with white-washed walls and generally cheerless appearance, in one corner of which had been pushed aside black boards, piles of maps, and other evidences of the school-room. Seated on benches which reached to the entrance door was a very fair sprinkling of the Porlock labourers and tradespeople, whose healthy red faces were shining with soap and expectation, and whose whole appearance denoted a lively and creditable desire to be enlightened on the very important subject which they had come to hear discussed. If any one was interested in the land question surely they were, for they all lived either upon it or by it, except a few whose nautical garb betrayed another occupation, and whose presence was the subject of a great dead of good-humoured chaff before the proceedings opened.

"Eh, Bill," cried one of the land toilers whom I knew well, for he worked at Farmer Smith's up at Bossington, "what dost want know about t'land, eh? This'll noa teach thee to catch fishes."

"Never thee moind aboot that, Joe," was the good-humoured answer, "we want noabody to teach us how to catch fish, we don't. I ha' come t' hear what the bloke from Minehead's got to zay 'bout you poor de'ils o' landsmen just out o' curiosity like."

"Coom, Bill, I like that," returned the first speaker. "Poor de'ils, indeed! Bean't we as well off as you vishers, eh!"

"Noa, of course you bean't. How can yer be when every voot of land yer tread on belongs to your maesters? Why, we can go sailing away vor days on the zea, lads, and we've as much roight theer as any voine gentleman in his steam yacht. T' zea belongs to us zall, yer zee, and we as goes vishing ha' got as much roight theer as any one. I reckon we've got the best o' you landsmen theer, eh, Bill. Ha, ha, ha!"

To my deep regret this interesting discussion was here brought to a sudden termination by the appearance of my father, the lecturer, and the committee upon the platform. Instantly there was a deep silence, for country audiences, in that respect, are far better bred than town ones, in the midst of which my father, in a few kindly, well-chosen words, introduced the lecturer to them.

When he resumed his chair there was a burst of applause (Devonshire men are generous with their hands and feet), at the conclusion of which the lecturer, a retired linen-draper from Minehead, stepped forward. Of course his doing so was the signal for another little round of cheering, during which he stood rustling his papers about, edging down his cuffs, and making desperate efforts to appear at his ease, which he most certainly was not. At last he made a start, and in less than five minutes I found myself devoutly wishing that he would look sharp and finish. The land question may be an immensely interesting one—no doubt it is; but when it consists in having long strings of depressing statistics hurled mercilessly at you by a nervous little ex-vendor of calico, who made a point of dropping his h's, you can very soon have enough of it. Before long I saw my father politely stifle a yawn—a piece of delicacy which I, not being upon the platform, did not think it necessary to imitate. The audience behaved admirably. The painful efforts written on the faces of most of them to appear intelligently interested were quite affecting, and at exactly the proper moments they never failed to bring in a little encouraging applause. I'm quite sure there wasn't one of them who understood a word of what the man was saying, but they were evidently charitably inclined to put this down to their own stupidity rather than to the incompetence of the lecturer.

He had been droning on for about half-an-hour, when a slight commotion caused by the noisy entrance of some late-comers led me to turn my head. Instantly my spirits rose, for I foresaw a row. The new-comers were all Luccombe men, and between the men of Luccombe and the men of Porlock there existed a deadly enmity. They were rivals in sport and also in politics, for whilst Luccombe boasted a Radical club, Porlock was distinctly Conservative. The arrival of these Luccombites, therefore, was most promising, for they certainly had not come out of compliment to their neighbours, and I took an early opportunity of changing my seat for one nearer the back of the room, so as to be in the fun in case there should be any.

It certainly seemed as though something would come of it. There were several strangers amongst the new-comers, and one of them in particular attracted my attention. He was a big, white-faced man, with continually blinking eyes and stupid, vacuous face, and every now and then he gave vent to his feelings by a prolonged animal cry which afforded the most exquisite amusement to his companions, and never failed to produce the utmost consternation in the lecturer's startled face. I don't know why it was so, but I took a violent dislike to that man the moment I saw him. He was so ugly, so like an animal, besides which he was evidently half drunk. He seemed of a different species altogether to the broad-shouldered, ruddy-faced, good-humoured Devonshire men by whom he was surrounded, and a very inferior species too.

After a while my attention was distracted from him to the other Luccombites, who were evidently bent upon breaking up the meeting. The lecturer was by no means the sort of man to defy the uproar, and insist upon finishing what he had to say. After a very mild protest, the meekness of which caused a howl of derision from the peace-breakers, he brought his lecture to an abrupt close and sat down.

Then my father rose, and spoke a few stern reproving words which had an infinitely better effect. But I was too occupied in watching the extraordinary behaviour of the white-faced man from Luccombe to listen to them. He had half risen to his feet, and was leaning over the back of one of the benches with his eyes and mouth wide open, staring with a stupidly-bewildered look at my father. Suddenly he turned round to his companions.

"Say, lads, should you like to see me shut that joker up?"

I felt hot with indignation, but I kept still.

"Ay, Jack, or Thomas, or whatever your name is," answered one of the Luccombites, "give him a cock-a-doodle-do."

The man smiled an ugly, sickly smile.

"I'll do better nor that," he muttered. "Listen, you 'ere," and, leaning forward, he shouted out one word at the top of his voice—"Yah! coward!"

I saw my father reel backwards as though he were shot, and the word he was uttering died away upon his lips. For a moment I hesitated whether to rush to him or at the man who had yelled out that word. But one glance at his ugly, triumphant face decided me. With two rapid strides I was across the room, and my hand was on his collar.

"Come on!" I shouted, "come along!"

He turned his fishy eyes up at me in amazement.

"What d'ye want? What d'ye mean?" he called out. "Let me go, you young cub, you! You're choking me."

"I'll do worse than choke you before I've done," I cried, passionately. "Come outside and fight, you great beast," and I dragged him half across the floor, for he was striving to free himself and shaking like a jelly-fish.

The audience had sat quite still in their places until now, only half realising what was going on. But at my words it seemed suddenly to dawn upon them, and they crowded around us with a full appreciation of my intended action.

"Let him be, Maester Hugh; we'll bring him along," they cried heartily, for there was not one whom I did not know. "We won't let him go, no fear. Who be 'e to call Maester Arbuthnot names?"

The man whom I jealously released shook himself sulkily and slouched along in the middle of the crowd towards the door.

"I don't want to be let go," he sneered. "If the boy wants a whipping I'll give it 'im. Most like he's a coward like his father though, and won't stand up to it."

My blood was boiling, but I would not answer; there were others to speak for me, though.

"You'd best keep that d—— tongue of yours fro' wagging in yer ugly mouth," cried Jim Holmes the blacksmith. "The lad's i' the right to stand up for his father, and, boy or no boy, he's like to make a jelly-bag o' you. Bring him on to the green, lads."

They brought him on to the green, and quickly formed a ring. The policeman, who was present as a delighted spectator, and who never dreamt of interfering, was good enough to hold my coat and waistcoat, whilst my adversary, unable to find any one willing to perform the same kind office for him, had to deposit his on the ground. He seemed in no hurry to declare himself ready, but at last the word was given, and we stood face to face. Even then he held up his hand for a minute's longer grace, and stared at me as though I were a ghost.

"My God!" he muttered to himself, "it's Mr. Herbert's own self! It's just as he looked at me in the tent;" and he stared at me as though frightened, yet fascinated.

Then we began. Of course I am not going to describe the fight. If we had been alone I should probably have killed him. As it was, they held me off by sheer force when they thought that he had had enough, and there was life still in him when I turned away, followed by an enthusiastic little crowd. But not much.

I went straight to the school-room. It was deserted, and the gas was turned down. From one of the loiterers outside I heard that my father had gone home, and hastily bidding good-night to the little crowd who still hung about my heels, I followed in the same direction.

I had thought that I should have overtaken my father, and at every turn of the lane I looked forward to catching sight of him. But I was disappointed, and when I at last reached home without having done so, I began to feel nervously uneasy. I did not at once enter the house, but looked in at the window. My mother and Marian were alone, working. I looked through into the hall. Neither his hat nor coat were there. He could not have yet returned. And when I realised this I stepped back on to the lawn, pale and shivering, for a horrible foreboding had laid hold of me. What could have become of him? Where could he have gone? I could not imagine, I dared not conjecture.