FullReads

‘”No bloodthed!” said he, in his lisping way. “I’ll have no bloodthed! The man ‘ith worth three guineath to me ath he ith. He thall have a cart, if it cotht me five shillingth! Where ‘th the nearetht village?”

‘He ran off and down the road, while my grandfather sat down on the turf along with the soldiers, and smoked a pipe of tobacco. Very nice lads they were, too; but he felt shy in their company, thinking how badly he had deceived them, and also that the joke was near running dry. For, whatever cart the Jew might hire, the driver couldn’t help recognising a man so widely known as my grandfather.

‘But his luck stood yet. For the little man hadn’t run above three-quarters of a mile on the road and was not half-way towards Buckland–his nearest chance of a cart–when he came full tilt upon a light wagon and three more soldiers, with a fourth riding behind, and all conveying the prisoners’ weekly pocket-money up to Princetown, in sacks filled with small change. Here was a chance to save breath as well as carriage hire, and the little Jew charged down on them so fiercely, as they crawled up the hill, that the corporal who sat on the money with a musket across his knees, had nearly shot him for a highwayman before giving him time to explain.

‘They whipped up the horses though, when they heard his story; and so, coming to the road under Sharpitor, and halting, they very soon had my grandfather trussed and laid upon the bags of money, and jogged away with him towards the Two Bridges, the Jew and three militiamen tramping behind at the cart-tail.

‘It was one o’clock, or a little past, when they drove up to the prison gate; and a mist beginning to gather above North Hessary, as at this time of year it often does after a clear morning. My grandfather, looking out from under the tilt of the cart, felt as he’d never felt before what a cheerless place it must seem to a new-comer, and his heart melted a little bit further towards the lad he was hiding at home.

‘”Hallo!” says the sentry at the gate.

‘”You’ll say something more than Hallo! when you see what we’ve got inside here,” promised the corporal.

‘Then they bundled my grandfather out in the light of day, and the corporal proudly told the sentry to summon the agent at once.

‘”Good Lord!” said the sentry, “if it bain’t Farmer Mugford!”

‘Just then, as it happened, forth stepped the agent himself from the wicket, starting for his walk that he took for his health’s sake every afternoon. Captain Sharpland his name was, and later on, when the Americans mutinied, he was accused of treating them harshly, but my grandfather said that a kinder-hearted man never stepped.

‘”Hallo,” says Captain Sharpland, halting and putting up his eyeglass. “Why, Mugford, whatever is the meaning of this?”

‘”You’d best ask the Jew here, sir,” my grandfather answered, nursing his sulks.

‘”If you pleathe, noble captain,” put in the Jew, who didn’t yet guess anything amiss, “we’ve thecured the ethcaped prithoner–after a tuthle–“

‘”And pray, who the devil may you be?” asked Captain Sharpland, screwing his eyeglass into his eye. He disliked Jews, upon principle.

‘”Tho pleathe you, noble captain, my name ‘th Nathan Nathaniel, of Thouththide Thtreet, Plymouth: and on my way thith morning, ath you thee, I came on the prithoner–“‘

‘”Prisoner be–” began Captain Sharpland, but broke off to swear at the sentry, that was covering his face with his hands to hide his grins. “My good Mr Mugford, will you explain?”

‘”With pleasure, sir,” my grandfather answered, and told his story, while the Jew’s eyes grew wider and wider, and his jaw dropped lower and lower.

‘”You claim compensation, of course?” said Captain Sharpland at the close, and as gravely as he could, though he too had to smooth a hand over his upper lip.