At a Winter's Fire Read online

  DARK DIGNUM

  "I'd not go higher, sir," said my landlady's father. I made out hiswarning through the shrill piping of the wind; and stopped and took inthe plunging seascape from where I stood. The boom of the waves came upfrom a vast distance beneath; sky and the horizon of running water seemedhurrying upon us over the lip of the rearing cliff.

  "It crumbles!" he cried. "It crumbles near the edge like as frostedmortar. I've seen a noble sheep, sir, eighty pound of mutton, browsinghere one moment, and seen it go down the next in a puff of white dust.Hark to that! Do you hear it?"

  Through the tumult of the wind in that high place came a liquid vibrantsound, like the muffled stroke of iron on an anvil. I thought it thegobble of water in clanging caves deep down below.

  "It might be a bell," I said.

  The old man chuckled joyously. He was my cicerone for the nonce; hadcome out of his chair by the ingle-nook to taste a little the salt oflife. The north-easter flashed in the white cataracts of his eyes andwoke a feeble activity in his scrannel limbs. When the wind blew loud,his daughter had told me, he was always restless, like an imprisonedsea-gull. He would be up and out. He would rise and flap his old draggledpinions, as if the great air fanned an expiring spark into flame.

  "It is a bell!" he cried--"the bell of old St. Dunstan's, that wasswallowed by the waters in the dark times."

  "Ah," I said. "That is the legend hereabouts."

  "No legend, sir--no legend. Where be the tombstones of drownded marinersto prove it such? Not one to forty that they has in other sea-boardparishes. For why? Dunstan bell sounds its warning, and not a craft willput out."

  "There is the storm cone," I suggested.

  He did not hear me. He was punching with his staff at one of a number oflittle green mounds that lay about us.

  "I could tell you a story of these," he said. "Do you know where westand?"

  "On the site of the old churchyard?"

  "Ay, sir; though it still bore the name of the new yard in my firstmemory of it."

  "Is that so? And what is the story?"

  He dwelt a minute, dense with introspection. Suddenly he sat himself downupon a mossy bulge in the turf, and waved me imperiously to a placebeside him.

  "The old order changeth," he said. "The only lasting foundations of men'sworks shall be godliness and law-biding. Long ago they builded a newchurch--here, high up on the cliffs, where the waters could not reach;and, lo! the waters wrought beneath and sapped the foundations, and thechurch fell into the sea."

  "So I understand," I said.

  "The godless are fools," he chattered knowingly. "Look here at thesebents--thirty of 'em, may be. Tombstones, sir; perished like man hisworks, and the decayed stumps of them coated with salt grass."

  He pointed to the ragged edge of the cliff a score paces away.

  "They raised it out there," he said, "and further--a temple of bondedstone. They thought to bribe the Lord to a partnership in theircorruption, and He answered by casting down the fair mansion into thewaves."

  I said, "Who--who, my friend?"

  "They that builded the church," he answered.

  "Well," I said. "It seems a certain foolishness to set the edifice soclose to the margin."

  Again he chuckled.

  "It was close, close, as you say; yet none so close as you might thinknowadays. Time hath gnawed here like a rat on a cheese. But thefoolishness appeared in setting the brave mansion between the winds andits own graveyard. Let the dead lie seawards, one had thought, and thechurch inland where we stand. So had the bell rung to this day; and onlythe charnel bones flaked piecemeal into the sea."

  "Certainly, to have done so would show the better providence."

  "Sir, I said the foolishness _appeared_. But, I tell you, there wasforesight in the disposition--in neighbouring the building to the cliffpath. _For so they could the easier enter unobserved, and store theirTcegs of Nantes brandy in the belly of the organ_."

  "They? Who were they?"

  "Why, who--but two-thirds of all Dunburgh?"

  "Smugglers?"'

  "It was a nest of 'em--traffickers in the eternal fire o' weekdays, andon the Sabbath, who so sanctimonious? But honesty comes not from thewashing, like a clean shirt, nor can the piety of one day purge the evilof six. They built their church anigh the margin, forasmuch as it washandy, and that they thought, 'Surely the Lord will not undermine Hisown?' A rare community o' blasphemers, fro' the parson that took hisregular toll of the organ-loft, to him that sounded the keys and pulledout the joyous stops as if they was so many spigots to what lay behind."

  "Of when do you speak?"

  "I speak of nigh a century and a half ago. I speak of the time o' theSeven Years' War and of Exciseman Jones, that, twenty year after he wereburied, took his revenge on the cliff side of the man that done him todeath."

  "And who was that?"

  "They called him Dark Dignum, sir--a great feat smuggler, and as wickedas he was bold,"

  "Is your story about him?"

  "Ay, it is; and of my grandfather, that were a boy when they laid, andwas glad to lay, the exciseman deep as they could dig; for the sight ofhis sooty face in his coffin was worse than a bad dream."

  "Why was that?"

  The old man edged closer to me, and spoke in a sibilant voice.

  "He were murdered, sir, foully and horribly, for all they could neverbring it home to the culprit."

  "Will you tell me about it?"

  He was nothing loth. The wind, the place of perished tombs, the verywild-blown locks of this 'withered apple-john', were eerie accompanimentsto the tale he piped in my ear:--

  "When my grandfather were a boy," he said, "there lighted in DunburghExciseman Jones. P'r'aps the village had gained an ill reputation.P'r'aps Exciseman Jones's predecessor had failed to secure the confidenceo' the exekitive. At any rate, the new man was little to the fancy of thevillage. He was a grim, sour-looking, brass-bound galloot; andincorruptible--which was the worst. The keg o' brandy left on hisdoorstep o' New Year's Eve had been better unspiled and run into thegutter; for it led him somehow to the identification of the innocent thatdone it, and he had him by the heels in a twinkling. The squire snortedat the man, and the parson looked askance; but Dark Dignum, he swore he'dbe even with him, if he swung for it. They was hurt and surprised, thatwas the truth, over the scrupulosity of certain people; and feelin'ran high against Exciseman Jones.

  "At that time Dark Dignum was a young man with a reputation above hisyears for profaneness and audacity. Ugly things there were said abouthim; and amongst many wicked he was feared for his wickedness. ExcisemanJones had his eye on him; and that was bad for Exciseman Jones.

  "Now one murk December night Exciseman Jones staggered home with abloody long slice down his scalp, and the red drip from it spotting thecobble-stones.

  "'Summut fell on him from a winder,' said Dark Dignum, a little later, ashe were drinkin' hisself hoarse in the Black Boy. 'Summut fell on himretributive, as you might call it. For, would you believe it, the man hadat the moment been threatenin' me? He did. He said, "I know damn wellabout you, Dignum; and for all your damn ingenuity, I'll bring you with acrack to the ground yet."'

  "What had happened? Nobody knew, sir. But Exciseman Jones was in his bedfor a fortnight; and when he got on his legs again, it was pretty evidentthere was a hate between the two men that only blood-spillin' couldsatisfy.

  "So far as is known, they never spoke to one another again. They playedtheir game of death in silence--the lawful, cold and unfathomable; theunlawful, swaggerin' and crool--and twenty year separated the first moveand the last.

  "This were the first, sir--as Dark Dignum leaked it out long after in hiscups. This were the first; and it brought Exciseman Jones to his grave onthe cliff here.

  "It were a deep soft summer night; and the young smuggler sat by hisselfin the long room of the Black Boy. Now, I tell you he were a fox-shipintriguer--grand, I should call him, in the aloneness of his villainy. Hewould play his dark
games out of his own hand; and sure, of all hiswickedness, this game must have seemed the sum.

  "I say he sat by hisself; and I hear the listening ghost of him call me aliar. For there were another body present, though invisible to mortaleye; and that second party were Exciseman Jones, who was hidden up thechimney.

  "How had he inveigled him there? Ah, they've met and worried that pointout since. No other will ever know the truth this side the grave. Butreports come to be whispered; and reports said as how Dignum had made anappointment with a bodiless master of a smack as never floated, to meethim in the Black Boy and arrange for to run a cargo as would never beshipped; and that somehow he managed to acquent Exciseman Jones o' thisdissembling appointment, and to secure his presence in hidin' to witnessit.

  "That's conjecture; for Dignum never let on so far. But what is known forcertain is that Exciseman Jones, who were as daring and determined ashis enemy--p'r'aps more so--for some reason was in the chimney, on to agrating in which he had managed to lower hisself from the roof; and thathe could, if given time, have scrambled up again with difficulty, but wasdebarred from going lower. And, further, this is known--that, as Dignumsat on, pretendin' to yawn and huggin' his black intent, a little sutplopped down the chimney and scattered on the coals of the laid firebeneath.

  "At that--'Curse this waitin'!' said he. 'The room's as chill as abelfry'; and he got to his feet, with a secret grin, and strolled to thehearthstone.

  "'I wonder,' said he, 'will the landlord object if I ventur' upon a glintof fire for comfort's sake?' and he pulled out his flint and steel,struck a spark, and with no more feelin' than he'd express in lightinga pipe, set the flame to the sticks.

  "The trapt rat above never stirred or give tongue. My God! what a man!Sich a nature could afford to bide and bide--ay, for twenty year, if needbe.

  "Dignum would have enjoyed the sound of a cry; but he never got it. Helistened with the grin fixed on his face; and of a sudden he heard ascrambling struggle, like as a dog with the colic jumping at a wall; andpresently, as the sticks blazed and the smoke rose denser, a thickcoughin', as of a consumptive man under bed-clothes. Still no cry, norany appeal for mercy; no, not from the time he lit the fire till ahorrible rattle come down, which was the last twitches of somethin' thatchoked and died on the sooty gratin' above.

  "When all was quiet, Dignum he knocks with his foot on the floor and sitshisself down before the hearth, with a face like a pillow for innocence.

  "'I were chilled and lit it,' says he to the landlord. 'You don't mind?'

  "Mind? Who would have ventur'd to cross Dark Dignum's fancies?

  "He give a boisterous laugh, and ordered in a double noggin of hummingstuff.

  "'Here,' he says, when it comes, 'is to the health of Exciseman Jones,that swore to bring me to the ground.'

  "'To the ground,' mutters a thick voice from the chimney.

  "'My God!' says the landlord--'there's something up there!'

  "Something there was; and terrible to look upon when they brought it tolight. The creature's struggles had ground the sut into its face, and itsnails were black below the quick.

  "Were those words the last of its death-throe, or an echo from beyond?Ah! we may question; but they were heard by two men.

  "Dignum went free. What could they prove agen him? Not that he knew therewas aught in the chimney when he lit the fire. The other would scarcelyhave acquent him of his plans. And Exciseman Jones was hurried into hisgrave alongside the church up here.

  "And therein he lay for twenty year, despite that, not a twelvemonthafter his coming, the sacrilegious house itself sunk roaring into thewaters. For the Lord would have none of it, and, biding His time, struckthrough a fortnight of deluge, and hurled church and cliff into ruin. Butthe yard remained, and, nighest the seaward edge of it, Exciseman Jonesslept in his fearful winding sheet and bided _his_ time.

  "It came when my grandfather were a young man of thirty, and mighty closeand confidential with Dark Dignum. God forgive him! Doubtless he wereled away by the older smuggler, that had a grace of villainy about him,'tis said, and used Lord Chesterfield's printed letters for wadding tohis bullets.

  "By then he was a ramping, roaring devil; but, for all his bold handswere stained with crime, the memory of Exciseman Jones and of his promisedwelled with him and darkened him ever more and more, and never left him.So those that knew him said.

  "Now all these years the cliff edge agen the graveyard, where it wasbroke off, was scabbing into the sea below. But still they used this wayof ascent for their ungodly traffic; and over the ruin of the cliff theyhad drove a new path for to carry up their kegs.

  "It was a cloudy night in March, with scud and a fitful moon, and therewas a sloop in the offing, and under the shore a loaded boat that hadjust pulled in with muffled rowlocks. Out of this Dark Dignum was thefirst to sling hisself a brace of rundlets; and my grandfather followedwith two more. They made softly for the cliff path--began the ascent--washalf-way up.

  "Whiz!--a stone of chalk went by them with a skirl, and slapped into therubble below.

  "'Some more of St. Dunstan's gravel!' cried Dignum, pantin' out areckless laugh under his load; and on they went again.

  "Hwish!--a bigger lump came like a thunderbolt, and the wind of it tookthe bloody smuggler's hat and sent it swooping into the darkness like abird.

  "'Thunder!' said Dignum; 'the cliff's breaking away!'

  "The words was hardly out of his mouth, when there flew such a volley ofchalk stones as made my grandfather, though none had touched him, fallupon the path where he stood, and begin to gabble out what he could callto mind of the prayers for the dying. He was in the midst of it, when heheard a scream come from his companion as froze the very marrow in hisbones. He looked up, thinkin' his hour had come.

  "My God! What a sight he saw! The moon had shone out of a sudden, and thelight of it struck down on Dignum's face, and that was the colour ofdirty parchment. And he looked higher, and give a sort of sob.

  "For there, stickin' out of the cliff side, was half the body ofExciseman Jones, with its arms stretched abroad, _and it was clawin' outlumps of chalk and hurling them down at Dignum_!

  "And even as he took this in through his terror, a great ball of whitecame hurtling, and went full on to the man's face with a splash--and hewere spun down into the deep night below, a nameless thing."

  The old creature came to a stop, his eyes glinting with a febrileexcitement.

  "And so," I said, "Exciseman Jones was true to his word?"

  The tension of memory was giving--the spring slowly uncoiling itself.

  "Ay," he said doubtfully. "The cliff had flaked away by degrees to hisvery grave. They found his skelington stickin' out of the chalk."

  "His _skeleton?"_ said I, with the emphasis of disappointment.

  "The first, sir, the first. Ay, his was the first. There've been a manyexposed since. The work of decay goes on, and the bones they fall intothe sea. Sometimes, sailing off shore, you may see a shank or an armprotrudin' like a pigeon's leg from a pie. But the wind or the weathertakes it and it goes. There's more to follow yet. Look at 'em! look atthese bents! Every one a grave, with a skelington in it. The wear andtear from the edge will reach each one in turn, and then the last of theungodly will have ceased from the earth."

  "And what became of your grandfather?"

  "My grandfather? There were something happened made him renounce thedevil. He died one of the elect. His youth were heedless andunregenerate; but, 'tis said, after he were turned thirty he never smiledagen. There was a reason. Did I ever tell you the story of Dark Dignumand Exciseman Jones?"