Varney the Vampyre 53The Return of the Mob and Military to the Town.—the Madness of the Mob.—the Grocer’s Revenge
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 53
The Return of the Mob and Military to the Town.—the Madness of the Mob.—the Grocer’s Revenge
RymerEnglish
On the termination of the conflagration, or, rather, the fall of the roof, with the loss of grandeur in the spectacle, men’s minds began to be free from the excitement that chained them to the spot, watching the progress of that element which has been truly described as a very good servant, but a very bad master; and of the truth of this every one must be well satisfied.
There was now remaining little more than the livid glare of the hot and burning embers; and this did not extend far, for the walls were too strongly built to fall in from their own weight; they were strong and stout, and intercepted the little light the ashes would have given out.
The mob now began to feel fatigued and chilly. It had been standing and walking about many hours, and the approach of exhaustion could not be put off much longer, especially as there was no longer any great excitement to carry it off.
The officer, seeing that nothing was to be done, collected his men together, and they were soon seen in motion. He had been ordered to stop any tumult that he might have seen, and to save any property. But there was nothing to do now; all the property that could have been saved was now destroyed, and the mob were beginning to disperse, and creep towards their own houses.
The order was then given for the men to take close order, and keep together, and the word to march was given, which the men obeyed with alacrity, for they had no good-will in stopping there the whole of the night.
The return to the village of both the mob and the military was not without its vicissitudes; accidents of all kinds were rife amongst them; the military, however, taking the open paths, soon diminished the distance, and that, too, with little or no accidents, save such as might have been expected from the state of the fields, after they had been so much trodden down of late.
Not so the townspeople or the peasantry; for, by way of keeping up their spirits, and amusing themselves on their way home, they commenced larking, as they called it, which often meant the execution of practical jokes, and these sometimes were of a serious nature.
The night was dark at that hour, especially so when there was a number of persons traversing about, so that little or nothing could be seen.
The mistakes and blunders that were made were numerous. In one place there were a number of people penetrating a path that led only to a hedge and deep ditch; indeed it was a brook very deep and muddy.
Here they came to a stop and endeavoured to ascertain its width, but the little reflected light they had was deceptive, and it did not appear so broad as it was.
“Oh, I can jump it,” exclaimed one.
“And so can I,” said another. “I have done so before, and why should I not do so now.”
This was unanswerable, and as there were many present, at least a dozen were eager to jump.
“If thee can do it, I know I can,” said a brawny countryman; “so I’ll do it at once.
“The sooner the better,” shouted some one behind, “or you’ll have no room for a run, here’s a lot of ’em coming up; push over as quickly as you can.”
Thus urged, the jumpers at once made a rush to the edge of the ditch, and many jumped, and many more, from the prevailing darkness, did not see exactly where the ditch was, and taking one or two steps too many, found themselves up above the waist in muddy water.
Nor were those who jumped much better off, for nearly all jumped short or fell backwards into the stream, and were dragged out in a terrible state.
“Oh, lord! oh, lord!” exclaimed one poor fellow, dripping wet and shivering with cold, “I shall die! oh, the rheumatiz, there’ll be a pretty winter for me: I’m half dead.”
“Hold your noise,” said another, “and help me to get the mud out of my eye; I can’t see.”
“Never mind,” added a third, “considering how you jump, I don’t think you want to see.”
“This comes a hunting vampyres.”
“Oh, it’s all a judgment; who knows but he may be in the air; it is nothing to laugh at as I shouldn’t be surprised if he were; only think how precious pleasant.”
“However pleasant it may be to you,” remarked one, “it’s profitable to a good many.”
“How so?”
“Why, see the numbers of things that will be spoiled, coats torn, hats crushed, heads broken, and shoes burst. Oh, it’s an ill-wind that blows nobody any good.”
“So it is, but you may benefit anybody you like, so you don’t do it at my expence.”
In one part of a field where there were some stiles and gates, a big countryman caught a fat shopkeeper with the arms of the stile a terrible poke in the stomach; while the breath was knocked out of the poor man’s stomach, and he was gasping with agony, the fellow set to laughing, and said to his companions, who were of the same class—
“I say, Jim, look at the grocer, he hasn’t got any wind to spare, I’d run him for a wager, see how he gapes like a fish out of water.”
The poor shopkeeper felt indeed like a fish out of water, and as he afterwards declared he felt just as if he had had a red hot clock weight thrust into the midst of his stomach and there left to cool.
However, the grocer would be revenged upon his tormentor, who had now lost sight of him, but the fat man, after a time, recovering his wind, and the pain in his stomach becoming less intense, he gathered himself up.
“My name ain’t Jones,” he muttered, “if I don’t be one to his one for that; I’ll do something that shall make him remember what it is to insult a respectable tradesman. I’ll never forgive such an insult. It is dark, and that’s why it is he has dared to do this.”
Filled with dire thoughts and a spirit of revenge, he looked from side to side to see with what he could effect his object, but could espy nothing.
“It’s shameful,” he muttered; “what would I give for a little retort. I’d plaster his ugly countenance.”
As he spoke, he placed his hands on some pales to rest himself, when he found that they stuck to them, the pales had that day been newly pitched.
A bright idea now struck him.
“If I could only get a handful of this stuff,” he thought, “I should be able to serve him out for serving me out. I will, cost what it may; I’m resolved upon that. I’ll not have my wind knocked out, and my inside set on fire for nothing. No, no; I’ll be revenged on him.”
With this view he felt over the pales, and found that he could scrape off a little only, but not with his hands; indeed, it only plastered them; he, therefore, marched about for something to scrape it off with.
“Ah; I have a knife, a large pocket knife, that will do, that is the sort of thing I want.”
He immediately commenced feeling for it, but had scarcely got his hand into his pocket when he found there would be a great difficulty in either pushing it in further or withdrawing it altogether, for the pitch made it difficult to do either, and his pocket stuck to his hands like a glove.
“D—n it,” said the grocer, “who would have thought of that? here’s a pretty go, curse that fellow, he is the cause of all this; I’ll be revenged upon him, if it’s a year hence.”
The enraged grocer drew his hand out, but was unable to effect his object in withdrawing the knife also; but he saw something shining, he stooped to pick it up, exclaiming as he did so, in a gratified tone of voice,
“Ah, here’s something that will do better.”
As he made a grasp at it, he found he had inserted his hand into something soft.
“God bless me! what now?”
He pulled his hand hastily away, and found that it stuck slightly, and then he saw what it was.
“Ay, ay, the very thing. Surely it must have been placed here on purpose by the people.”
The fact was, he had placed his hand into a pot of pitch that had been left by the people who had been at work at pitching the pales, but had been attracted by the fire at Sir Francis Varney’s, and to see which they had left their work, and the pitch was left on a smouldering peat fire, so that when Mr. Jones, the grocer, accidentally put his hand into it he found it just warm.
When he made this discovery he dabbed his hand again into the pitch-pot, exclaiming,—
“In for a penny, in for a pound.”
And he endeavoured to secure as large a handful of the slippery and sticky stuff as he could, and this done he set off to come up with the big countryman who had done him so much indignity and made his stomach uncomfortable.
He soon came up with him, for the man had stopped rather behind, and was larking, as it is called, with some men, to whom he was a companion.
He had slipped down a bank, and was partially sitting down on the soft mud. In his bustle, the little grocer came down with a slide, close to the big countryman.
“Ah—ah! my little grocer,” said the countryman, holding out his hand to catch him, and drawing him towards himself. “You will come and sit down by the side of your old friend.”
As he spoke, he endeavoured to pull Mr. Jones down, too; but that individual only replied by fetching the countryman a swinging smack across the face with the handful of pitch.
“There, take that; and now we are quits; we shall be old friends after this, eh? Are you satisfied? You’ll remember me, I’ll warrant.”
As the grocer spoke, he rubbed his hands over the face of the fallen man, and then rushed from the spot with all the haste he could make.
The countryman sat a moment or two confounded, cursing, and swearing, and spluttering, vowing vengeance, believing that it was mud only that had been plastered over his face; but when he put his hands up, and found out what it was, he roared and bellowed like a town-bull.
He cried out to his companions that his eyes were pitched; but they only laughed at him, thinking he was having some foolish lark with them.
It was next day before he got home, for he wandered about all night: and it took him a week to wash the pitch off by means of grease; and ever afterwards he recollected the pitching of his face; nor did he ever forget the grocer.
Thus it was the whole party returned a long while after dark across the fields, with all the various accidents that were likely to befall such an assemblage of people.
The vampyre hunting cost many of them dear, for clothes were injured on all sides, hats lost, and shoes missing in a manner that put some of the rioters to much inconvenience. Soon afterwards, the military retired to their quarters; and the townspeople at length became tranquil and nothing more was heard or done that night.
