Chapter 54
"And at last he said," continued Morny, "that if he saw me getting well it would be the best cure for his injuries, but that if I were obstinate and refused to obey him now that he was lying there weak and helpless, it would surely send him to his grave."
"And then of course you went?" replied Rodd excitedly.
"Yes, I went then," replied Morny, "for at last I had begun to see that he was right. And then every morning after we had been all mustered, as you call it, and were free to go outside the gates, I went out with a lot more right on to the wild desert. But I wanted to be alone, and as soon as I could I wandered away up amongst the great stones, and sat down to think and rage against myself for feeling so happy when I wanted to be miserable and in despair about our fate. For it was as if something within me was mocking at my sufferings and trying to make me laugh and feel bright and joyous, for--Oh, how well I can remember it all up there! The sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly, and the great block of stone upon which I sat down felt hot and so different to the cold cheerless prison inside. Every here and there amongst the stones there was the beautiful soft green gra.s.s, and little low shrubs were in full blossom, some a of rich purple, and some of the brightest gold, while in two or three places far up in the blue sky the _alouettes_ were singing like they do in France; and every puff of soft warm wind that floated by was scented with the sweet fragrance of that little herb--I forget its name--that which the bees buzz about."
"Wild thyme?" said Rodd quickly.
"Ah, yes; wild thyme. And there for a long time I sat nursing my left arm, fighting against what seemed to be a feeling of happiness, and trying to think of all the evil that the English had done us, and what I would do as soon as I got free. But it was too much for me. I couldn't do it, and what I had looked upon from the prison windows from between the bars would not seem to be the same wild stony desert, but beautiful and full of hope and joy."
"Ah!" cried Rodd. "That's because you were getting better. I know what you felt. I was like that once after a bad fever, and when I was taken out one fine morning for the first time, though I was weak as a rat I felt as if I must run and jump and shout all about nothing; but it was because everything looked so beautiful, and I knew that I must be getting well."
The boys' eyes met for a few moments, and then Morny bowed his head slowly and went on.
"Yes," he said quietly, "I suppose it was a beautiful healthy place, and it began to make me feel like that; and as I looked round--for I had climbed very high--I could see right down into parts of a valley that was all full of suns.h.i.+ne and flas.h.i.+ng light, for there was a little dancing stream running swiftly along, and as I looked down into it and saw how it widened here and narrowed there as it flashed amongst the great rocks of granite, it set me thinking about home, and instead of going on planning how I would revenge myself upon the English, I began to wonder whether there would be trout there too, and soon afterwards I began to creep slowly down so as to see. And then I remember that I burst out laughing at myself, for it seemed so droll. My legs would keep on bending under me, and I
"You were so weak," said Rodd earnestly.
"Yes, that was it," cried Morny; "but I didn't understand at first, and somehow I didn't seem to mind a bit, but sat down and rested time after time, till at last I got right down to the edge of the little river, all shallow and dotted with blocks of stone; and there at first were the little trout darting about to hide themselves, scared away by my shadow upon the water. But as I sat down to watch they soon came out again, and began leaping at the little gnats that were flitting about the surface. Then do you know how that made me feel?"
"Well," said Rodd, "I know how it would make an English boy feel-- myself, for instance."
"How?"
"As if he'd like to have my namesake with only one _d_ in his hand, and begin whipping the stream."
"Yes, that's how I felt," said Morny softly.
"I know about those trout on Dartmoor," cried Rodd, "right up on the moor. I know somebody who used to go and fish there, and he told me that he could go and catch dozens and dozens and dozens of them whenever he liked. But they were so very small."
"Yes," said Morny, speaking dreamily now, with his eyes so lit up, that as Rodd watched his thin delicate face, he thought how handsome and well-bred he looked.
"Too good-looking for a boy, but more fitted for a girl," he mused.
"And did you go and fish?" he cried, as he suddenly caught Morny's eyes gazing at him questioningly.
"Oh yes. I went back to the prison and spoke to one of our guards--a frowning, fierce-looking fellow--and I told him how ill my father was, and that he never seemed as if he could eat the prison rations, as they called them, and that I wanted to try and catch some of the little fish on the moor and cook them, and try if I could tempt him with them."
"And what did he say?" cried Rodd, for Morny had stopped.
"He made my heart feel on fire at first, for he growled out 'Bah!
Rubbis.h.!.+ There, go on in.' 'Savage!' I said to myself. 'Just like an Englishman!'"
"What a brute!" cried Rodd. "But I say, old chap, our fellows are not all like that."
"No," said Morny. "But I hadn't done. Next minute he shouted after me, 'Halt!' and when I stopped and looked round he called out, 'Ahoy! Jim!'
and another of the guards with his piece over his shoulder marched up to where we stood, and the man I had first spoken to turned to me and said, 'Here, you tell him what you said to me.'"
"And did you?" cried Rodd.
"I felt as if the words would choke me at first, but just then I seemed to see the trout hot and brown upon a dish and my father, sick and pale, looking at them longingly, and that made me speak to the other guard, who was scowling at me. And as I spoke a grim smile came over his face, and his eyes twinkled, and he showed his teeth. 'All right, youngster,'
he said. 'Got a rod?' I shook my head. 'No line? No flies?' I shook my head again and again. 'All right, young 'un,' he said. 'You come to me two hours before sundown; I shall be on duty then. I'll set you up with a bit of tackle. But I say, you Frenchies don't know how to throw a fly!' 'I used to,' I replied, 'at home, in France.' 'Lor', did you?'
he said. 'Hear that, Billy? I never knew as a Frenchman knew how to fish. But that's all right, youngster--only my ignorance. A fisherman's a fisherman the wide world round.'"
"Well?" said Rodd, for his companion had stopped.
"Well?" said Morny.
"Go on."
"What about?"
"Well, you are a chap! Don't you know I was always very fond of fis.h.i.+ng?"
"I know you like fis.h.i.+ng, for I saw you enjoying it that day when--"
"Steady!" cried Rodd.
"I've done," said Morny.
"But I don't want you to have done."
"Why, you forbade me to touch upon what you call dangerous ground."
"Bah! That's another thing. I don't want you to be grateful. But of course I like to hear about you going fis.h.i.+ng. I could almost wish that you and I could go and have a few hours together on Dartmoor now."
"And we cannot," said Morny quietly.
"No; but we might try for bonito or dolphins. But go on. I want you to tell me about how you got on. Did you go to that prison guard two hours before sundown?"
"Oh yes. He was as friendly as ever he could be, just because he found that I was fond of fis.h.i.+ng, and lent me his rod and line and flies that he made himself, and told me the best places to go to, and he was as pleased as I was when I came back to the prison with a dozen and a half of little trout. Oh, I remember so well almost every word he said."
"Well, what did he say?" cried Rodd eagerly.
"Oh, he was a good-humoured droll fellow, though he looked so gruff, for when I showed him my fish he slapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Well done, young 'un! You are one of the right sort after all.' And then he told me to take the fish into his quarters, and his missus, as he called her, would cook them for me so that I could take them to my sick father; and when I thanked him he said it was all right, and that he and his 'missus' had been talking together about how bad the French captain looked, and that I had better get him a nice little dish like that as often as I could."
Morny stopped again, and Rodd gazed at him impatiently.
"Here, I say," he cried, "what a tantalising sort of chap you are! Why, I could tell a story better than you."
"Why, I have told you the story," said Morny.
"No, you haven't. You keep stopping short when you come to what interests me most."
"Nonsense! You don't want me to go on telling you about catching more fish and getting them fried day after day, and about taking them up to my father."
"What do you know about it?" cried Rodd. "It's just what I do want you to tell me. Did he like them and eat them, and did they do him good?
Those are the best bits."