Dick o' the Fens Part 53

"I wish we could get it home to our place to keep as a curiosity?"

"But it would want a shed over it, my lad, for the rain, wind, and sun would soon make an end of it."

"Then, what are you going to do?"

"Get it out and up that slope they are cutting, along some planks if we can, and then fill up the trench."

The lads inspected the curious-looking old hull, whose aspect seemed to bring up recollections of the history of early England, when fierce-looking men, half sailors, half warriors, came over from the Norland in boats like this, propelled by great oars, and carrying a short thick mast and one sail. All the upper portions had rotted away, but enough of the hull remained to show pretty well what its shape must have been, and that it had had a curiously-projecting place that must have curved out like the neck of a bird, the whole vessel having borne a rough resemblance to an elongated duck or swan.

The boys were, however, by no means so enthusiastic as the engineer; and as a great figure came looming up behind them, d.i.c.k was ready enough to welcome the incident of the man's reminder about the disturbance at the Toft.

"We're mates, we are," cried the great fellow, holding out his broad hairy hand to take d.i.c.k's in his grasp, and shake it steadily up and down. "I heven't forgot, I heven't forgot."

"Are you all right again, Bargle?" said d.i.c.k, trying in vain to extricate his hand.

"Yeees. Knock o' the yead don't hot me. See here."

He slowly drew out of his pocket a great piece of dark-yellow ivory, evidently the point, and about a foot in length, of the tusk of some animal, probably an elephant.

"Theer's what I promised you, lad. That's a tush, that is. What yer think o' that?"

d.i.c.k did not seem to know what to think of it, but he expressed his grat.i.tude as well as he could, and had to shake hands again and again with the great fellow, who seemed to take intense delight in smiling at d.i.c.k and shaking his head at him.

How long this scene would have lasted it is impossible to say; but at last, as it was growing irksome, there came a shout from the end of the drain.

"They've found something else," said Mr Marston; and the lads needed no telling to hasten their steps, for the finding of _something_ buried in the peat could not fail to prove interesting; but in this case the discovery was startling to the strongest nerves.

As they neared the end of the drain where the men were slowly delving out the peat, and a section of the bog was before them showing about twelve feet of, the wet black soil, Mr Marston stepped eagerly forward, and the group of men who were standing together opened out to let him and his companions pa.s.s through.

d.i.c.k shuddered at the object before him: the figure of a man clothed apparently in some kind of leather garb, and partly uncovered from the position it had occupied in the peat.

"Some un been murdered and berrid," growled Bargle, who was close behind.

"No, my man," said Mr Marston, taking a spade and cutting down some more of the turf, so as to lay bare the figure from the middle of the thigh to the feet.

"Lemme come," growled Bargle, striding forward and almost s.n.a.t.c.hing the sharp spade from his leader's hand.

"Don't hurt it," cried Mr Marston, giving way.

"Nay, no fear o' hotting him," growled Bargle, grinning, and, bending to his work, he deftly cut away the black peat till the figure stood before them upright in the bog as if fitted exactly in the face of the section like some brownish-black fossil of a human being.

It was the figure of a man in a leather garb, and wearing a kind of gaiters bound to the legs by strips of hide which went across and across from the instep to far above the knee. There was a leathern girdle about the waist, and one hand was slightly raised, as if it had held a staff or spear, but no remains of these were to be seen. Probably the head had once been covered, but it was bare now, and a quant.i.ty of long s.h.a.ggy hair still clung to the dark-brown skin, the face being half covered by a beard; and, in spite of the brown-black leathery aspect of the face, and the contracted skin, it did not seem half so horrible as might have been supposed.

"Why, boys," said Mr Marston after a long examination, "this might be the body of someone who lived as long back as the date when that old galley was in use."

"So long back as that!" cried d.i.c.k, looking curiously at the strange figure, whose head was fully six feet below the surface of the bog.

"Got a-walking across in the dark, and sinked in," said Bargle gruffly.

That might or might not have been the case. At any rate there was the body of a man in a wonderful state of preservation, kept from decay by the action of the peat; and, judging from the clothing, the body must have been in its position there for many hundred years.

"What's got to be done now?" said Bargle. "We want to get on."

Mr Marston gave prompt orders, which resulted in a shallow grave being dug in the peat about fifty yards from where the drain was being cut, and in this the strange figure was carefully laid, ready for exhumation by any naturalist who should wish to investigate farther; and after this was done, and a careful search made for remains of weapons or coins, the cutting of the drain progressed; till, after an enjoyable day with the engineer, the boys said good-bye, and tried to escape without having to shake hands with Bargle.

But this was not to be. The big fellow waylaid them, smiling and holding out his hand to d.i.c.k for a farewell grip, and a declaration that they were mates.

About half-way back, and just as it was growing toward sundown, they were met by Hickathrift, who came up smiling, and looking like a Bargle carefully smoothed down.

"Thought I'd see you safe back," said Hickathrift so seriously that a feeling of nervousness which had not before existed made the boys glance round and look suspiciously at a reed-bed on one side and a patch of alders on the other.

"What are you talking like that for?" cried d.i.c.k angrily; "just as if we couldn't walk along here and be quite safe! What is there to mind?"

The wheelwright shook his head and looked round uneasily, as if he too felt the influence of coming danger; but no puff of smoke came from clump of bushes or patch of reeds; no sharp report rose from the alders that fringed part of the walk, and they reached the wheelwright's cottage without adventure.

Here Hickathrift began to smile in a peculiar way, and, having only one hand at liberty, he made use of it to grip d.i.c.k by the arm, and use him as if he were an instrument or tool for entrapping Tom, with the result that he packed them both into his cottage, and into the presence of his wife, who was also smiling, as she stood behind a cleanly-scrubbed table, upon which was spread a tempting-looking supper.

"Here, Hicky, don't! What do you mean?" cried d.i.c.k, whom the great fellow's grip punished.

"Wittles," said the wheelwright, indulging in a broad grin.

"Oh, nonsense! We're off home. Tom Tallington's going to have supper with me."

"Nay, he's going to hev his supper here along o' uz," said Hickathrift.

"Didn't I say, missus, I'd bring 'em home?"

"Yes, Mester d.i.c.k," cried Mrs Hickathrift; "and thank ye kindly, do stop."

"Oh, but we must get back!" cried d.i.c.k, who shrank from partaking of the wheelwright's kindly hospitality.

"Theer, I towd you so," cried Mrs Hickathrift to her husband, and speaking in an ill-used tone. "They're used to table-cloths, and squire's wife's got silver spoons."

"Nay, nay, never mind the cloths and spoons, Mester d.i.c.k; stop and have a bite."

"But, Hicky--"

"Nay, now," cried the wheelwright interrupting; "don't thee say thou'rt not hungry."

"I wasn't going to," said d.i.c.k, laughing, "because I am horribly hungry.

Aren't you, Tom?"

Tom showed his teeth. It was meant for a smile, but bore a wonderful resemblance to a declaration of war against the food upon the table.

"Don't be proud, then, lad. Stop. Why, you nivver knew me say I wouldn't when I've been at your place."

That appeal removed the last objection, and the boys took off their caps, sat down with the wheelwright, and Mrs Hickathrift, according to the custom, waited upon them.

It is unnecessary to state what there was for supper, and how many times d.i.c.k and Tom had their plates replenished with--never mind what--and--it does not signify. Suffice it to say that for the s.p.a.ce of half an hour the wheelwright's wife was exceedingly busy; and when at the end of an hour the trio rose from the table, and Hickathrift filled his pipe, both of his visitors seemed as if they had gone through a process of taming.