The Poacher, by Frederick
Marryat
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Title: The Poacher Joseph Rushbrook
Author: Frederick Marryat
Release Date: May 22, 2007 [EBook #21574]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
POACHER ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Poacher
by Captain Marryat.
CHAPTER ONE.
IN WHICH THERE IS MORE ALE THAN ARGUMENT.
It was on a blusterous windy night in the early part of November, 1812,
that three men were on the high road near to the little village of
Grassford, in the south of Devonshire. The moon was nearly at the full,
but the wild scud, and occasionally the more opaque clouds, passed
over in such rapid succession, that it was rarely, and but for a moment
or two, that the landscape was thrown into light and shadow; and the
wind, which was keen and piercing, bent and waved the leafless
branches of the trees which were ranged along the hedgerows, between
which the road had been formed.
The three individuals to whom we have referred appeared all of them to
have been indulging too freely in the ale which was sold at the
public-house about half a mile from the village, and from which they
had just departed. Two of them, however, comparatively speaking,
sober, were assisting home, by their joint efforts, the third, who,
supported between them, could with difficulty use his legs. Thus did
they continue on; the two swayed first on the one side of the road, and
then on the other, by the weight of the third, whom they almost carried
between them. At last they arrived at a bridge built over one of those
impetuous streams so common in the county, when, as if by mutual
understanding, for it was without speaking, the two more sober
deposited the body of the third against the parapet of the bridge, and
then for some time were silently occupied in recovering their breath.
One of the two who remained leaning on the parapet by the side of their
almost lifeless companion was a man of about forty years of age, tall
and slender, dressed in a worn-out black coat, and a pair of trousers
much too short for him, the original colour of which it would have been
difficult to have surmised; a sort of clerical hat, equally the worse for
wear, was on his head. Although his habiliments were mean, still there
was something about his appearance which told of better days, and of
having moved in a different sphere in society; and such had been the
case. Some years before he had been the head of a grammar-school,
with a comfortable income; but a habit of drinking had been his ruin,
and he was now the preceptor of the village of Grassford, and gained
his livelihood by instructing the children of the cottagers for the small
modicum of twopence a head per week. This unfortunate propensity to
liquor remained with him and he no sooner received his weekly stipend
than he hastened to drown his cares, and the recollection of his former
position, at the ale-house which they had just quitted. The second
personage whom we shall introduce was not of a corresponding height
with the other: he was broad, square-chested, and short-dressed in
knee-breeches, leggings, and laced boots--his coat being of a thick
fustian, and cut short like a shooting-jacket: his profession was that of a
pedlar.
"It's odd to me," said the pedlar, at last breaking silence, as he looked
down upon the drunken man who lay at his feet, "why ale should take a
man off his legs; they say that liquor gets into the head, not the feet."
"Well," replied the schoolmaster, who was much more inebriated than
the pedlar, "there's argument even in that and, you see, the
perpendicular deviation must arise from the head being too heavy,
that's clear; and then, you see, the feet, from the centre of gravity being
destroyed, become too light; and if you put that and that together, why,
a man can't stand. You understand my demonstration?"
"It was heavy wet, that ale, and so I suppose it's all right," replied the
pedlar; "but still ale a'n't poured into the head or into the feet of a man,
but into the internals, which are right in the middle of a man; so, how
do you make out your case, Mr Furness?"
"Why, Byres, you talk of the residuum."
"Never said a word
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