Now that sleep had once begun upon him, assisted by the ale, John looked some degrees less alive, though far more respectable than on his first arrival. He was ushered into the coffee-room, where three or four gentlemen sat at one table, all in blue and silver, with the captain, and as he pulled his forelock and bobbed his head, the elder of them-a dignified looking man with grey hair and whiskers and a silver-laced uniform, said-"So, my lad, you are come to warn Captain Carbonel of an intended attack on his property?"
"Yes, sir," John mumbled, looking more and more of a lout, for he had thought the captain would just go home alone to defend his wife and his machine, and was dismayed at finding the matter taken up in this way, dreading lest he should have brought every one into trouble and be viewed as an informer.
"What evidence have you of such intentions?"
John looked into his hat and shuffled on his foot, and Captain Carbonel, who knew that Sir Harry Hartman, the old gentleman, was persuaded that Delafield was the place to protect, was in an agony lest John should be too awkward and too anxious to shield his family to convince him. He ventured to translate the words into "How do you know?"
His voice somehow made John feel that he must speak, and he said, "Aunt heard it."
"What's that? Who is aunt?" said Sir Harry, in a tone as if deciding that it was gossip; but this put John rather more on his mettle, and he said, "My aunt, Judith Grey, sir."
"How did she hear?"
"Through the window. She heard them laying it out."
"She is bedridden," put in the captain; "but a clever, sensible woman."
"Whom did she hear or see?"
"She couldn't see nobody, sir. It was a strange voice," John was trying to save the truth.
"Oh! and what did she hear?"
"They was planning to go round the place and call up the men-that's to-day," said John.
"Are you sure it was to-day? Did she tell you she heard it?"
"Yes, sir. And," John bethought him, "there was a great row going on at the `Fox and Hounds,' and when I came past Poppleby, a whole lot of them come out singing `Down with the machines.'"
"That's more like it, if it was not a mere drunken uproar," said Sir Harry.
"I suppose you did not know any of the voices?" said one of the other gentlemen.
John could hold his tongue this time. "And you came all this way by night, twenty miles and odd, to warn Captain Carbonel, on your aunt's information?" said Sir Harry, thoughtfully. "Are you sure that she could hear distinctly?"
"One can hear in her room talk in our garden as well as if it was in the room," replied John.
"Well! you are a good lad, well intentioned," said Sir Harry. "Here's half-a-crown to pay your journey back. We will consider what is to be done."
John had rather not have taken the half-crown, but he did not know how to say so, so he pulled his forelock and accepted it.
Captain Carbonel came out of the coffee-room with him, and called to the hostler to let him lie down and rest for a couple of hours, when the Red Rover would change horses there, and then call him, and pay for his journey back to Poppleby.
So John lay down on clean straw and slept, too much tired out to put thoughts together, and unaware of the discussion among the gentlemen. For Sir Harry Hartman was persuaded that it was Delafield that needed protection, and was inclined to make little of John Hewlett's warning, thinking that it rested on the authority of a sick nervous woman, and that there was no distinct evidence but that of the young man who would not speak out, and only went by hearsay.
Captain Carbonel, who was, of course, in an agony to get home and defend his property, but was firmly bound by his notions of discipline, argued that the lad was the son of the most disaffected man in the parish, and that his silence was testimony to the likelihood that his father was consulting with the ringleader. The invalid woman he knew to be sensible and prudent, and most unlikely either to mistake what she heard, or to send her nephew on such a night journey without urgent cause, and he asked permission to go himself, if the troop were wanted elsewhere, to defend his home. Finally, just as the debate was warming between the officers, a farmer came in from Delafield, and assured them that all was quiet there. So the horses were brought out, and there was much jingling of equipments, and Johnnie awoke with a start of dismay. He had never thought of such doings. He had only thought of Captain Carbonel's riding home, never of bringing down what seemed to him a whole army on his father.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. JACK SWING.
"Richard of England, thou hast slain Jack Straw,
But thou hast left unquenched the vital spark
That set Jack Straw on fire."
Sir H. Taylor.
Nobody knew who Jack Swing was. Most likely he really was more than one person, or rather an impersonal being, worked up as a sort of shadowy puppet to act in the cause of future reform.
There were hot spirits abroad, who knew that much was amiss on many points, and who burned to set them right; and there were others who were simply envious and jealous of all that had power or authority, and wanted to put these down for their own profit. They thought that the way to get their cause attended to was to make the other party afraid of the people, and they did not know or understand that those who delayed to grant their wishes only desired patience, and to do the work in the best and wisest way. All that they demanded, and more too, has since been given to the people, but gradually, as was expedient, and without tumult or disturbance.
So there was a desire to frighten the gentry by showing the strength of the people, in anticipation of the Reform Bill to be proposed the next year. It would not have made much difference to the country people, for no one would have a vote whose rent did not amount to ten pounds a year, and they would not have cared much about it if they had not been told that if it was passed, every man would have a fat pig in his sty, and be able to drink his daily quart of beer, moreover, that the noblemen and gentlemen were resolved on keeping them out of their rights, making bread dear, and depriving them of their wages by setting up machines to do all the work.
This last came near home, and stirred up the minds that would have cared for little else. Just as four hundred years before, Jack Straw was an imaginary champion whose name inflamed the people to rise, so now Jack Swing, or whoever it was who acted in that name, sent messages round that such and such a place should be attacked at such and such a time.
There was always some one in the town who could be fired with the idea that inciting riot and revolt was patriotism, and that a good cause could be served by evil methods, who cast aside such warnings as "Rebellion is like the sin of witchcraft," or "The powers that be are ordained of God." Besides, the infection spread, and to hear what Jack Swing was doing elsewhere encouraged others not to be behindhand with their neighbours.
So the mandate had gone out, and there were a few at Elchester ready to arrange for a rising at Uphill and Downhill. Dan Hewlett was known to them in the public-house, and he had an especial spite at Captain Carbonel, beginning from his knowledge of the tacit detection of his abstraction of the paper at Greenhow, going through his dismissal from working there, aggravated by the endeavour to remove Judith, embittered by the convictions as a poacher, and, perhaps, brought to a height by the influence over his eldest son. He hated the captain enough to be willing to direct the attack upon Greenhow, especially as it was known that the master was absent and engaged in summoning the yeomanry "to ride down the poor chaps," as it was said, "who only wanted bread for their children's mouths."
There were men both at Uphill and Downhill, and even at Poppleby, who were quite willing to listen. The Poppleby folk, some of them, believed that riot was the only way to get reform, more of the villagers thought it was the only way of getting rid of the machines, the object of mysterious dread for the future, and more still, chiefly ne'er-do-wells and great idle lads, were ready for any mischief that might be going; and full of curiosity and delight at what Jack Swing might be about to do.