Part 4 (1/2)
Forsyth had climbed upon the box. Trust was on the back seat, with me held like a squalling babe in his arms. The cart tilted forward a bit, as Amos scrambled up and took his seat beside the driver.
I heard Forsyth crack his whip, and immediately the horse started off at a canter, the cart rocking like a boat in a heavy sea. I continued to shout, until Joshua swore at me and clapped one of his great hands across my mouth. And the last thing I saw, as the cart turned into the main road to Littlehampton, was John Bannister breaking through the boundary fence, and then standing quite still and upright in the middle of the road, staring after us, with his brown paper parcel still under his arm.
CHAPTER V--I SET FORTH UPON MY VOYAGE
Though all these events took place more than fifty years ago, I have a very perfect recollection of that drive. In those days there was not much traffic on the Suss.e.x roads; and we pa.s.sed nothing on the way to Slindon save a hay-cart and a brewer's wagon. On neither occasion did I dare cry out for help, for Joshua Trust sat by the side of me with his loaded pistol, pressed close against my ribs, in the pocket of his sailor's pea-jacket. I never doubted for an instant that he would shoot. I had then, it is true, little experience of the world; but I could scarce fail to recognise that I was fallen into the hands of desperate men who counted human life of little worth.
So I kept my silence upon the road, wondering all the time what was to become of me, and, above all else, what Amos Baverstock would say when he discovered that I had cast away my fragment of the map.
That he thought I had it still was plain enough, since he twice told Joshua to keep an eye on me, lest I should throw it from the cart. He was in a great haste to reach the woods at Slindon, where in springtime the wild flowers are like a garden; and he had a good reason for this.
Indeed, in all my experience of Amos, I never knew him fail for want of caution; and when a man is circ.u.mspect as well as fearless, he is an enemy who cannot be trifled with.
It was the scoundrel's design, so I discovered, to reach the woods with as little delay as possible, and there to wait until the evening, when he could take the Portsmouth road under cover of darkness. There were, at that date, many coaches on the highways; and Amos evidently thought it wiser not to trust me.
So to Slindon Woods we went, and were there in no time, soon after noon.
They unharnessed the horse, and turned him out to graze; and whilst Mr.
Forsyth unpacked a hamper that was well stocked with provisions and wine to drink, Amos took me by the shoulders, and looked me straight in the face.
”And now, boy,” he said, ”I'll have no more nonsense from you--so understand me, once and for all. It's an unwise thing to pry into my affairs--I can tell you that. You know more about me already than I care to think; and I tell you fairly, you had best mend your ways, if you value life.”
I was afraid of the look of him, of the hard glitter in his eyes and the way in which his thin lips were tightly pressed together. And I was more afraid still of what would happen when he discovered that I had made away with my fragment of the torn map. My heart was in my mouth.
I felt as if I were suspended by a thread upon the brink of a precipice, and that at any moment that thread would break and I be hurled into eternity.
Fortunately, perhaps, I was not left long in such uncertainty; for no sooner had Amos taken his hands from off my shoulders than he clapped them together behind his back, and came out with the very question that I feared.
”And where's the map, my boy?” said he.
I answered nothing.
”Give it up,” he demanded, and held out a hand.
”I have not got it,” said I.
At that his jaw dropped. He stared at me in amazement, not knowing whether or not to believe me.
”Haven't got it!” he repeated. ”What d'ye mean?”
And the way he rapped out those last few words made my blood run cold. I saw, however, that I must make a clean breast of the matter, let it end which way it would.
”I have not got it,” said I, ”for a simple reason; because I had thrown it away before you caught me. And now, you know the truth, and can do with me what you will.”
The hunchback stood staring at me as if I were a ghost. His thin, wrinkled face had gone a yellow or a greenish colour, and his little eyes looked blacker and more on fire than ever. He kept working his mouth about, as if he were chewing some of his vile tobacco; and, on the whole, I cannot conceive an expression more menacing, a countenance less prepossessing.
He came up to me, and searched my pockets; and whilst he was doing so, I noticed that both his hands were trembling. He had then been joined by both Trust and Forsyth, who stood on either side of him.