Tales of Northumbria Part 14

The train was overdue, and Mary waited with a feverish expectation at the station's descent amidst a small crowd of young men and boys to whom the idea of making anyone 'ride the stang' had appealed with an irresistible sense of novelty.

The custom, indeed, was obsolete, but all had heard of it, and the older men had often witnessed it in their youth, and some of them had collected near the station to criticise and superintend the performance.

The 'stang' itself was in readiness--having been lent to Mary on this occasion by the schoolmaster and antiquary of the village, whose father had been, as constable, its custodian in the old days.

And now at last the rumble of an approaching train was audible, and the group at once a.s.sumed an alert and eager air.

A crowd of tired excursionists slowly descended the narrow path from the station, men and women together, but there was no sign of Geordie or the 'fancy' wife. Mary's heart grew heavy within her; after all, then, she would have to depart without that sweet morsel--her revenge.

The 'fancy' wife must have relented and informed Geordie of her plans.

'Ho-way,' cried a man in her ear, 'he's not comin' back the night; thoo's gi'en him a gliff mevvies.'

'Stay!' cried she swiftly, detaining him by the arm. 'What's that, then?' she whispered triumphantly, as at the tail of the procession of pleasure-seekers a couple became visible descending fitfully with wayward lurches.

'See there!' continued Mary eagerly, 'it's Geordie an' his "fancy"

wife with him. Catch tight haud of him, an' mount him, an' carry him through the length o' the village on the "stang"--right to his very door; he canna get in though, for I've the key i' my pocket,' and Mary laughed with an inward glee.

Down came the couple slowly, Geordie abusing his companion, as he lurched against her heavily, for not progressing with more even footsteps, the woman saying nothing, but tightly gripping him by the arm, in order, doubtless, to keep him upright and also to prevent any attempt at escape.

The wicket-gate swung open, Geordie lurched through, and in a moment he was seized, hoisted into the air, a rough pole thrust through his legs, and the triumphal march began to the tune of a penny whistle, played by the local champion, a carter to trade, and a number of Jews'

harps and toy trumpets with which a herd of small boys poured forth discordant revel.

'Gox! Aa's fallen intiv a sorcus (circus),' cried Geordie, in the first moment of astonishment, then, 'Leave haud ov us, ye great flamin' Irish---- What the devil's this Aa's astride o'?' adding with solemn dignity, 'Yore makin' a tarr'ble mistake. Aa's not Blondin, ti walk on a tight rope for ye; Aa's Geordie Campbell o' the Raa (Row), whe lives i' the hoos wi' the bra.s.s handle tiv't.'

'Ay, ay, we knaa thoo!' cried the chorus of urchins; 'thoo's Geordie, drunken Geordie, Geordie wi' the "fancy" wife. Geordie, Geordie ride-the-stang! Eh, what a clivvor rider is Geordie! Thoo's a proper jockey, Geordie, an' thoo'll mevvies ride the winner i' "the Plate"[20] before thoo's finished wiv it.'

This idea tickled the carriers of the 'stang,' and Geordie's bearers were forthwith transformed into thorough-breds with a tendency to buck-jump. Hither and thither he rolled, dazed and bewildered, helplessly clutching at the heads of those near him for support, but his arms were seized, his legs tightly crossed below the 'stang,' and he swung from side to side, while the rougher boys, chanting rude doggerel over him, gathered and threw mud upon him. A trombone and a 'sarpint' here joined the noisy crowd, and to the varied strains of 'The Campbells are coming,' 'Weel may the keel row,' and 'Canny Dog Cappie,' Geordie was borne in triumph up the Row.

A 'furrinor' (foreigner, stranger) here joined the medley, a 'South countryman' from Yorkshire, who, chancing to have lately come to the village after some private experience of his own in stang-riding in one of the remoter Yorkshire vales, at once placed his services at the crowd's disposal.

Marching at the head of the procession, like the drum-major of a band, and beating together two saucepan-lids, he led the anthem.

Between the 'cling, cling, cling' of the lids his voice rose l.u.s.tily:

'Ah tinkle, ah tinkle, ah tinkle tang, It's not foor your part nor mah part 'At ah ride the stang, But foor you, Geordie Robertson, who his wife did bang.'

Scarcely had he ended when the shrill trebles of the boys took up the wondrous tale, and in antiphony chanted their response:

'Up wiv a b.u.mp and down wiv a bang Gans Geordie, Geordie ride-the-stang; A b.u.mp an' a bang for his deed sae wrang, An' we'll larn him a lesson for ever sae lang.'

Then, to the full chorus, with complete orchestra of flute and fife, trombone and triangle, tin whistle and 'sarpint,' bra.s.s pot, pan, and saucepan-lids, the entire procession moved slowly onward.

Mary's eyes burned bright with exultation as she marched along in the crowd, not letting a single incident of the spectacle escape her notice, and as she watched she too joined in the chorus of 'Geordie, Geordie ride-the-stang' without restraint.

The sound of the familiar voice roused the victim from the stupor into which the hustling, peltings, and shoutings had reduced him.

'Thoo ----,' he yelled, as he caught sight of her; 'then it's thoo that's at the bottom o' this? By, but if Aa wes free Aa'd----' But a stalk of cabbage thrown at a venture by a small boy on the skirts of the crowd here impeded his utterance, and Mary's voice rang out perhaps more triumphantly than before.

The 'fancy' wife, meanwhile, who had at first discreetly retired from public view and looked on at the procession from a distance, had shortly after joined the noisy throng, moved thereto by a sense of isolation, and also by a certain smouldering compunction. She looked around her irresolutely; she felt she had acted precipitately; certainly she was not deriving any advantage from the proceedings, whereas her rival was the leader of the revelry, dancing, clapping her hands, and carrying on like a 'Maypole la.s.s.'

At this moment Mary inadvertently brushed against her, and in a moment the 'fancy' wife turned upon her like a spitfire. Clenching her fists and shouting vituperations, she tried to seize her by the hair. Foiled in this by an adroit swerve of Mary's under the 'stang,' she turned her fury upon Geordie's bearers, and with such success that to defend themselves they were forced to lower the pole to the ground. 'Noo, Geordie,' cried she, promptly thrusting the wooden weapon into his hands, 'mak' play wiv it, my man, ho-way,' and Geordie, realizing he was now free, lunged furiously in all directions, and scattered the crowd like chaff before him.

Steered by his 'fancy' wife, a way grew clear about them, and Geordie marched slowly, unsteadily forward, bearing the 'stang' like a battering-ram straight in front of him, down the remaining length of the Row, accompanied at a respectful distance by a rabble of the smaller urchins.

Right on past his house he went, out into the darkness beyond, and over the bridge at the end of the village, still tightly grasping the 'stang' himself, and tightly grasped in his turn by his 'fancy' wife.

The last train to Oldcastle happened to pa.s.s above the bridge at that moment, and a head leant far out through a carriage window.

'Ay!' a clear voice sounded, with a touch of derision on the night air--'Ay! that's right, haud him tight, for he wants it badlies.'

FOOTNOTES:

[19] Mr. Brockett died in 1842.

[20] The Northumberland Plate.

YANKEE BILL AND QUAKER JOHN

Quaker John was one of the best known figures in the small seaport town of Old Quay. Short of stature, heavy of tread, always quietly attired in a black suit, which varied not in cut from year to year; indeed, the same suit had once been known to do duty for three years together, till his wife one day, so 'twas said, handed them over to the chimney-sweep in mistaken ident.i.ty. You might have told that he was of Puritan descent some yards away, but the 'letter of the law' in him had been softened down by the kindly genius of the old-fashioned Quaker. A genial twinkle lay in hiding at the back of his steadfast eye, and a smile was always 'at heel' beside his big and honest mouth.

A broad and spectacled nose completed the portrait of one in whom the harmlessness as of a dove did not of necessity efface the wisdom of the serpent. At least, so said Yankee Bill, who read character 'at sight'; but then, Bill was a disciple of that cynical logic which proclaims not only all priests to be humbugs, but all men immersed in business who make pretensions to piety to be hypocrites or fools.

He had happened to pa.s.s along the street one 'fourth-day' morning as John came out of the meeting-house, and overheard him address a remark about business to a Quaker friend at his side, and thereafter was merciless in ridicule. 'John's patent incubator,' he styled the meeting-house, 'for plot-hatching,' and pretended to be afraid of doing business with him on Wednesday afternoons for fear of being 'skinned.'

Bill was a waif from the seas who had somehow been thrown up at Old Quay a few years back, and having 'prospected around' and 'pegged out a claim' for himself in the indiscriminate region of commission business, life insurance, advertising agencies, secretaryships, and other nebulous formative processes, was now almost as well-known a figure in the town as Quaker John himself.

The chief foundation in any abiding friendship is a certain diversity of temperament which those who wondered at the mutual liking that had sprung up between the retiring stockbroker's clerk and the worldly Yankee had evidently overlooked. To John the American's audacity was a perpetual delight, tempered by occasional Puritan scruples as to whether he was justified in a.s.sociating with so hardened an unbeliever. To Bill Coody the Quaker's reposefulness and quiet self-sufficiency were both a sleeping-draught and irritant.

Nothing delighted him more than to get a rise out of John; but John was hard to catch, and even when craftily inveigled into a theological argument, was extremely chary of entering into definite statements.

Even when his position was most hotly a.s.sailed by the other, who made unsparing use of the _argumentum ad hominem_, reinforced by a store of malicious anecdotes of religious 'professors' all the world over, John never lost his temper, but mildly suggested that his antagonist was an Anarchist in disguise.

John himself, though immersed in business which some of the 'plain people' have been used to look askance at, lived after the simple fashion of the straiter sect.

After his day's work at the office, where as head clerk much responsibility lay on his shoulders, he would go straight home and employ his leisure on fine days in his garden, and on wet days in his library, for John was not only a book-collector, but also a reader.

One pipe of tobacco he allowed himself before going to bed on week days and two on 'first-days,' and flavoured his tobacco with a chapter of 'George,' as he styled in affectionate intimacy his favourite author (Mr. Meredith) on week-days, but a portion of Barclay's 'Apology' on 'first-day' evenings.

One evening John was sitting reading as usual, when the maid-servant came in to say that Mr. Coody wished to have a few words with him.

'Very well,' replied her master, laying aside 'George' with a sigh, and wondering what business Bill might have on hand to come at such an untimely hour.

In came his friend as unceremoniously as ever, and, sitting himself down on the sofa, drew vigorously at his cheroot for a minute or two before entering upon the topic that had brought him thither.

'Look here, John,' he exclaimed all at once, 'you're a confidential cuss, I guess, and I've got a scheme on hand that will "scoop the boodle" if properly carried out; and what I want to know is, whether your people will take a hand in it or no. It's a certain thing, and will go ahead like a runaway buggy anyway; but the less friction the better, so that if your people will grease the wheels a bit, so much the better for them and all consarned.'