Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor
waves, and shadowing the pebbles.
Here, although affrighted often by the deep, dark places, and feeling
that every step I took might never be taken backward, on the whole I
had very comely sport of loaches, trout, and minnows, forking some, and
tickling some, and driving others to shallow nooks, whence I could bail
them ashore. Now, if you have ever been fishing, you will not wonder
that I was led on, forgetting all about danger, and taking no heed of
the time, but shouting in a childish way whenever I caught a “whacker”
(as we called a big fish at Tiverton); and in sooth there were very
fine loaches here, having more lie and harbourage than in the rough Lynn
stream, though not quite so large as in the Lowman, where I have even
taken them to the weight of half a pound.
But in answer to all my shouts there never was any sound at all, except
of a rocky echo, or a scared bird hustling away, or the sudden dive of a
water-vole; and the place grew thicker and thicker, and the covert grew
darker above me, until I thought that the fishes might have good chance
of eating me, instead of my eating the fishes.
For now the day was falling fast behind the brown of the hill-tops, and
the trees, being void of leaf and hard, seemed giants ready to beat me.
And every moment as the sky was clearing up for a white frost, the cold
of the water got worse and worse, until I was fit to cry with it. And
so, in a sorry plight, I came to an opening in the bushes, where a great
black pool lay in front of me, whitened with snow (as I thought) at the
sides, till I saw it was only foam-froth.
Now, though I could swim with great ease and comfort, and feared no
depth of water, when I could fairly come to it, yet I had no desire to
go over head and ears into this great pool, being so cramped and weary,
and cold enough in all conscience, though wet only up to the middle,
not counting my arms and shoulders. And the look of this black pit was
enough to stop one from diving into it, even on a hot summer's day with
sunshine on the water; I mean, if the sun ever shone there. As it was, I
shuddered and drew back; not alone at the pool itself and the black
air there was about it, but also at the whirling manner, and wisping of
white threads upon it in stripy circles round and round; and the centre
still as jet.
But soon I saw the reason of the stir and depth of that great pit, as
well as of the roaring sound which long had made me wonder. For skirting
round one side, with very little comfort, because the rocks were high
and steep, and the ledge at the foot so narrow, I came to a sudden sight
and marvel, such as I never dreamed of. For, lo! I stood at the foot of
a long pale slide of water, coming smoothly to me, without any break or
hindrance, for a hundred yards or more, and fenced on either side with
cliff, sheer, and straight, and shining. The water neither ran nor fell,
nor leaped with any spouting, but made one even slope of it, as if it
had been combed or planed, and looking like a plank of deal laid down a
deep black staircase. However, there was no side-rail, nor any place to
walk upon, only the channel a fathom wide, and the perpendicular walls
of crag shutting out the evening.
The look of this place had a sad effect, scaring me very greatly, and
making me feel that I would give something only to be at home again,
with Annie cooking my supper, and our dog Watch sniffing upward. But
nothing would come of wishing; that I had long found out; and it only
made one the less inclined to work without white feather. So I laid the
case before me in a little council; not for loss of time, but only that
I wanted rest, and to see things truly.
Then says I to myself--“John Ridd, these trees, and pools, and lonesome
rocks, and setting of the sunlight are making a gruesome coward of thee.
Shall I go back to my mother so, and be called her fearless boy?”
Nevertheless, I am free to own that it was not any fine sense of shame
which settled my decision; for indeed there was nearly as much of danger
in going back as in going on, and perhaps even more of labour, the
journey being so roundabout. But that which saved me from turning back
was a strange inquisitive desire, very unbecoming in a boy of little
years; in a word, I would risk a great deal to know what made the water
come down like that, and what there was at the top of it.
Therefore, seeing hard strife before me, I girt up my breeches anew,
with each buckle one hole tighter, for the sodden straps were stretching
and giving, and mayhap my legs were grown smaller from the coldness
of it. Then I bestowed my fish around my neck more tightly, and not
stopping to look much, for fear of fear, crawled along over the fork of
rocks, where the water had scooped the stone out, and shunning thus the
ledge from whence it rose like the mane of a white horse into the broad
black pool, softly I let my feet into the dip and rush of the torrent.
And here I had reckoned without my host, although (as I thought) so
clever; and it was much but that I went down into the great black pool,
and had never been heard of more; and this must have been the end of me,
except for my trusty loach-fork. For the green wave came down like great
bottles upon me, and my legs were gone off in a moment, and I had not
time to cry out with wonder, only to think of my mother and Annie, and
knock my head very sadly, which made it go round so that brains were
no good, even if I had any. But all in a moment, before I knew aught,
except that I must die out of the way, with a roar of water upon me, my
fork, praise God stuck fast in the rock, and I was borne up upon it. I
felt nothing except that here was another matter to begin upon; and it
might be worth while, or again it might not, to have another fight for
it. But presently the dash of the water upon my face revived me, and my
mind grew used to the roar of it, and meseemed I had been worse off than
this, when first flung into the Lowman.
Therefore I gathered my legs back slowly, as if they were fish to be
landed, stopping whenever the water flew too strongly off my shin-bones,
and coming along without sticking out to let the wave get hold of
me. And in this manner I won a footing, leaning well forward like a
draught-horse, and balancing on my strength as it were, with the ashen
stake set behind me. Then I said to my self, “John Ridd, the sooner you
get yourself out by the way you came, the better it will be for you.”
But to my great dismay and affright, I saw that no choice was left me
now, except that I must climb somehow up that hill of water, or else be
washed down into the pool and whirl around it till it drowned me. For
there was no chance of fetching back by the way I had gone down into
it, and further up was a hedge of rock on either side of the waterway,
rising a hundred yards in height, and for all I could tell five hundred,
and no place to set a foot in.
Having said the Lord's Prayer (which was all I knew), and made a very
bad job of it, I grasped the good loach-stick under a knot, and steadied
me with my left hand, and so with a sigh of despair began my course up
the fearful torrent-way. To me it seemed half a mile at least of sliding
water above me, but in truth it was little more than a furlong, as I
came to know afterwards. It would have been a hard ascent even without
the slippery slime and the force of the river over it, and I had scanty
hope indeed of ever winning the summit. Nevertheless, my terror left
me, now I was face to face with it, and had to meet the worst; and I set
myself to do my best with a vigour and sort of hardness which did not
then surprise me, but have done so ever since.
The water was only six inches deep, or from that to nine at the utmost,
and all the way up I could see my feet looking white in the gloom of
the hollow, and here and there I found resting-place, to hold on by the
cliff and pant awhile. And gradually as I went on, a warmth of courage
breathed in me, to think that perhaps no other had dared to try that
pass before me, and to wonder what mother would say to it. And then came
thought of my father also, and the pain of my feet abated.
How I went carefully, step by step, keeping my arms in front of me, and
never daring to straighten my knees is more than I can tell clearly, or
even like now to think of, because it makes me dream of it. Only I must
acknowledge that the greatest danger of all was just where I saw no
jeopardy, but ran up a patch of black ooze-weed in a very boastful
manner, being now not far from the summit.
Here I fell very piteously, and was like to have broken my knee-cap, and
the torrent got hold of my other leg while I was indulging the bruised
one. And then a vile knotting of cramp disabled me, and for awhile I
could only roar, till my mouth was full of water, and all of my body was
sliding. But the fright of that brought me to again, and my elbow caught
in a rock-hole; and so I managed to start again, with the help of more
humility.
Now being in the most dreadful fright, because I was so near the top,
and hope was beating within me, I laboured hard with both legs and arms,
going like a mill and grunting. At last the rush of forked water, where
first it came over the lips of the fall, drove me into the middle, and
I stuck awhile with my toe-balls on the slippery links of the pop-weed,
and the world was green and gliddery, and I durst not look behind me.
Then I made up my mind to die at last; for so my legs would ache no
more, and my breath not pain my heart so; only it did seem such a pity
after fighting so long to give in, and the light was coming upon me, and
again I fought towards it; then suddenly I felt fresh air, and fell into
it headlong.
CHAPTER VIII
A BOY AND A GIRL
When I came to myself again, my hands were full of
young grass and mould, and a little girl kneeling at my side was rubbing
my forehead tenderly with a dock-leaf and a handkerchief.
“Oh, I am so glad,” she whispered softly, as I opened my eyes and looked
at her; “now you will try to be better, won't you?”
I had never heard so sweet a sound as came from between her bright red
lips, while there she knelt and gazed at me; neither had I ever seen
anything so beautiful as the large dark eyes intent upon me, full of
pity and wonder. And then, my nature being slow, and perhaps, for that
matter, heavy, I wandered with my hazy eyes down the black shower of
her hair, as to my jaded gaze it seemed; and where it fell on the turf,
among it (like an early star) was the first primrose of the season. And
since that day I think of her, through all the rough storms of my life,
when I see an early primrose. Perhaps she liked my countenance, and
indeed I know she did, because she said so afterwards; although at the
time she was too young to know what made her take to me. Not that I had
any beauty, or ever pretended to have any, only a solid healthy face,
which many girls have laughed at.
Thereupon I sate upright, with my little trident still in one hand, and
was much afraid to speak to her, being conscious of my country-brogue,
lest she should cease to like me. But she clapped her hands, and made a
trifling dance around my back, and came to me on the other side, as if I
were a great plaything.
“What is your name?” she said, as if she had every right to ask me; “and
how did you come here, and what are these wet things in this great bag?”
“You had better let them alone,” I said; “they are loaches for my
mother. But I will give you some, if you like.”
“Dear me, how much you think of them! Why, they are only fish. But how