John Deane of Nottingham: Historic Adventures by Land and Sea. William Henry Giles Kingston

whether he had driven back the animal to Widow Pitt’s paddock.

      “Oh, yes!” he answered; “but I should have had a far better appetite for dinner, had I been able to find the fellows who had been so cruelly baiting her. However, they will not manage to escape me altogether, I’ll warrant; but, as you know, I do not expect to remain here much longer, now that I have finished my course at the Grammar School. They will be for sending me to college if I do, and that I could never brook. But before I go, I must come and pay you a visit at Harwood Grange, Mistress Alethea.”

      “We shall always be glad to see you,” said the young lady, looking up with a bright glance at Jack’s honest countenance. “Here comes my father to say the same.”

      “Yes, indeed we shall, Jack,” said Mr. Harwood, who came up at that moment. “I may be able to give you some useful introductions, when I hear where you are going. I have many friends scattered about the country, north and south.”

      “And you will not mind introducing me,” asked Jack with kindling eye, “though I follow the calling of what Kate calls a poor, miserable drover?”

      “Oh, no, no!” answered the Squire, “not if you always show the spirit you did this afternoon, and that I am sure you will wherever you go, or whatever calling you follow.”

      Here he took Jack’s hand, and pressed it kindly in presence of the various people of fashion who were walking up and down the terrace. Mrs. Deane observed the action, and seemed well pleased with the attention paid her younger son. Taking somewhat after herself, he was, it must be confessed, her favourite.

      The sun was now sinking over the distant hills, and as the mist began to rise from the river below, the parties on the terrace gradually dispersed, the Deane family and their friends returning to their mansion, where they assembled once more round their well-spread board, at eight o’clock precisely, the fashionable hour for supper. Jack, in better spirits than he had been in the afternoon, joined the family party. Songs were sung, and numerous stories told by Dr. Nathaniel, Mr. Pinkstone, and other acknowledged wits of the party. Ere ten o’clock had struck, the whole party retired to their chambers, our forefathers being of opinion that early to bed and early rising was far more conducive to health than the late hours adopted by the present generation.

Chapter Three.

       Table of Contents

      A Poaching Expedition to Colwick Park—Jack forms an Acquaintance who leads him into Difficulties.

      As soon as the party broke up, Jack hurried to his room, and very contrary to his usual custom threw himself into a chair, and unconsciously pressing his hand on his brow, rested his elbow on the little oak table which stood by his bedside. The way in which the walls were adorned showed the tastes of the occupant of the chamber. The most honoured ornament was a fowling-piece with a curious lock lately invented, the gift of Cousin Nat, and which had superseded the stout cross-bow hanging beneath it. One wall was devoted to fishing-rods, tackle, and nets. Among them was a rod of which Izaak Walton, that great professor of the gentle art, had himself spoken approvingly when once, while fishing in the silvery Trent, he had seen it flourished in Cousin Nat’s hands. There were two sets of foils with masks and gloves, and several cudgels with strange knots and devices, cut from ancient trees in Sherwood Forest, beneath whose once wide-spreading boughs certain feats of the renowned Robin Hood were said to have been performed. In one and all the tales relating to the exploits of the bold outlaw, it is scarcely necessary to say that Jack put the most implicit faith, and would have been highly indignant had any one ventured to doubt their authenticity or correctness. In one corner of the room stood a book-case, a very unpretending piece of furniture in itself, but it contained every ballad Jack believed to have been written, or at all events on which he could lay hold, connected with Robin Hood. It contained however other tomes: besides several schoolbooks, their dark covers sadly battered, and their leaves inked, dog’s-eared, and torn, there were kind Izaak Walton’s “Complete Angler,” highly prized by Jack; Foxe’s “Book of Martyrs,” presented to him by Aunt Bethia; and a work he valued more than all the others—Purchas’s “Travels:” and often and often as he conned these pages he longed to be able to visit the strange countries and to go through the wonderful adventures therein described.

      The fact was that Jack had a very good head on his shoulders, and had he broken his leg, or met with any other accident which would have confined him to the house, he would have taken very readily to reading. In his case his physical powers demanded more exercise than his mental, whereas in the case of his brother Jasper his mental activity preponderated over his mere animal spirits. Jack required a tether to keep him within bounds, Jasper a spur to make him move fast enough to keep up with the times. Yet in most respects the elder was superior to the younger brother—cast in a finer mould, with keener sensibilities, a gentler heart, and more moral if not physical courage. Jack had, however, many good qualities, but many of his doings were not such as deserved imitation. Such book knowledge as he possessed he had obtained at the Nottingham Grammar School, where, as was the case at other places of education of the same character, boys were allowed to pick up what they chose, and if not inclined to learn, no great effort was made to instruct them. Jack had therefore run wild, and had done many things for which he had cause to be sorry, and had sometimes even got into trouble about them. He had not, however, even yet learned wisdom. His character was, however, to be developed, and may probably be so in the following pages.

      “I would do any thing to please her,” he said to himself. “I do not think she would like to know the work I have promised to engage in to-night, and yet how am I to be off it? I know myself it is not right, but I gave my word to those fellows, and ought I to break it? I do not like the forest laws, but they are laws notwithstanding, and it behoves honest men to obey them—there’s the rub. How I did not come to think of that before, I don’t know. Perhaps Alethea put it into my head; and yet she did not speak very approvingly of the king and the Parliament, so I suppose she would not much object to my breaking the laws which they have formed. Still she would not like to see me placed in the pillory, and that would be my fate if I was caught poaching—there’s no use mincing the matter, that’s the word. But I was never frightened at any thing, and I am not going to be frightened at that. I gave my word, and I must stick to my word.”

      Saying this, Jack started up, and began to throw aside his holiday suit. Instead, he donned his roughest clothes, took down the fishing-boots from the wall, filled his pockets with tackle, and threw a landing-net over his shoulder. Thus prepared, with a slouched hat that concealed his features, he gently opened the window, and by means of a leaden water-spout, and a pear-tree growing up the wall under his window, slipped noiselessly to the ground. He quickly scaled the garden wall, and took his way down a narrow lane winding between tall and irregular houses, till he reached the side of the narrow river Leen, which, sweeping by the foot of the castle hill, ultimately falls into the Trent. He was soon clear of all the buildings, when, stopping under a tall hedge-row which ran down to the stream, a low whistle reached his ears.

      “That is Smedley,” he said to himself. “Well, I will fulfil my promise, and then break with these fellows for good.”

      He whistled in return, in the same manner, and immediately a youth of about his own age stepped out from the shelter of a hedge.

      “Well, Jack, I am glad you have come at last,” said Smedley; “it’s growing late, and the other fellows will be waiting for us down the stream.”

      “Where is the boat?” asked Jack. “I promised to go with you to-night, and I am not the man to break my word; but just let me tell you, Tom, once for all, I am determined that this shall be the last time.”

      “Don’t say that, Jack,” answered Smedley: “we cannot afford to lose you. We want a good leader in all our work, and you are just the man for us. As for the boat, she is down by the edge of Colwick Causeway, under the bushes; and Ned Bligh has got mufflers for the oars, and all ready; so come with us now, and don’t be bothering your head about the future.”