William The Outlaw (24 page)

‘Wonder what it is,’ said Henry speculatively, ‘looks to me like a prison.’

‘P’raps it’s a lunatic asylum,’ said Ginger, ‘why’s it got a high wall round it like that if it’s not a lunatic asylum?’

Discussing the matter animatedly they wandered on to the stream.

‘Now catch your salmon,’ challenged Ginger.

‘All right. I bet I will,’ said William doggedly.

For a short time they fished in silence.

Then William gave a cry of triumph. His hook had caught something beneath one of the big stones.

‘There!’ he said, ‘I’ve got one. I
told
you so.’

‘Bet it’s not a salmon,’ said Ginger but with a certain excitement in his voice.

‘I bet it is,’ said William, ‘if it’s not a salmon I – I—’ with a sudden burst of inspiration, ‘I’ll go through that hole in the cave
– so there!’

He tugged harder.

His ‘catch’ came out.

It was an old boot.

They escorted him back to the cave. The hole looked far too small for one of William’s solid bulk. They stood below and stared at it speculatively.

‘You’ve
got
to,’ said Ginger, ‘you said you would.’

‘Oh, all right,’ said William with a swagger which was far from expressing his real feelings, ‘I bet I can easy get through that little hole an’ I bet I’ll find a
big place full of smugglers or smuggled stuff inside. Give me a shove . . . that’s it. . . .
Oo
,’ irritably, ‘don’t shove so
hard . . .
You nearly pushed my
head off my neck . . . Go on – go on. . . . Oo, I say, I’m getting through quite easy . . . it’s all dark . . . it’s a sort of passage. . . .’ William had miraculously
scraped himself through the small aperture. Two large boots was all of him which was now visible to the Outlaws. Those, too, disappeared, as William began to crawl down the passage. It was
mercifully a little wider after the actual opening. His voice reached them faintly.

‘It’s all dark . . . it’s like a little tunnel . . . I’m going right to the end to see what’s there . . . well, anyway if that wasn’t a salmon I bet there
are
salmons there and I bet I’ll catch one too one of these days, and—’

His voice died away in the distance. They waited rather anxiously. . . . They heard nothing and saw nothing more. William seemed to have been completely swallowed up by the rock.

William slowly and painfully (for the aperture was so small that occasionally it grazed his back and head) travelled along what was little more than a fissure in the rock. The
spirit of adventure was high in him. He was longing to come upon a cave full of swarthy men with coloured handkerchiefs tied round their heads and gold ear-rings, quaffing goblets of smuggled rum
or unloading bales of smuggled silk. Occasionally he stopped and listened for the sound of deep-throated oaths or whispers or smugglers’ songs. Once or twice he was almost sure he heard them.
He crawled on and on and on and into a curtain of undergrowth and out into a field.

He stopped and looked around him. He was in the field behind the cave. The curtain of undergrowth completely concealed the little hole from which he had emerged. He was partly relieved and
partly disappointed. It was rather nice to be out in the open air again (the tunnel had had a very earthy taste); on the other hand he had hoped for more adventures than it had afforded. But he
consoled himself by telling himself that they might still exist. He’d explore that passage more thoroughly some other time – there might be a passage opening off it leading to the
smugglers’ cave – and meantime it had given him quite a satisfactory thrill. He’d never really thought he could get through that little hole. And it had given him a secret. The
knowledge that that little tunnel led out into the field was very thrilling.

He looked around him again. Within a few yards from him was the wall surrounding the house about which they had just been making surmises. Was it a prison, or an asylum or – possibly
– a Bolshevist headquarters? William looked at it curiously. He longed to know.

He noticed a small door in the wall standing open. He went up to it and peeped inside. It gave on to a paved yard which was empty. The temptation was too strong for William. Very cautiously he
entered. Still he couldn’t see anyone about. A door – a kitchen door apparently – stood open. Still very cautiously William approached. He decided to say that he’d lost his
way should anyone accost him. He was dimly aware that his appearance after his passage through the bowels of the earth was not such as to inspire confidence. Yet his curiosity and the suggestion of
adventure which their surmises had thrown over the house was an irresistible magnet.

Within the open door was a kitchen where a boy, about William’s size and height and not unlike William, stood at a table wearing blue overalls and polishing silver.

They stared at each other. Then William said, ‘Hello.’

The boy was evidently ready to be friendly. He replied ‘Hello.’

Again they stared at each other in silence. This time it was the boy who broke the silence.

‘What’ve you come for?’ he said in a tone of weary boredom. ‘You the butcher’s boy or the baker’s boy or somethin’? Only came in this mornin’ so I
don’ know who’s what yet. P’raps you’re the milk boy?’

‘No, I’m not,’ said William.

‘Beggin’?’ said the boy.

‘No,’ said William.

But the boy’s tone was friendly so William cautiously entered the kitchen and began to watch him. The boy was cleaning silver with a paste which he made by the highly interesting process
of spitting into a powder. William watched, absorbed. He longed to assist.

‘You live here?’ he said ingratiatingly to the boy.

‘Naw,’ said the boy laconically. ‘House-boy. Only came today,’ and added dispassionately, ‘Rotten place.’

‘Is it a prison?’ said William with interest.

The boy seemed to resent the question.

‘Prison yourself,’ he said with spirit.

‘A lunatic asylum, then?’ said William.

This seemed to sting the boy yet further.

‘Garn,’ he said pugnaciously. ‘Oo’re yer callin’ a lunatic asylum?’

‘I din’ mean
you
,’ said William pacifically. ‘P’raps it’s a place where they make plots.’

The boy relapsed into boredom. ‘I dunno what they make,’ he said. ‘Only came this mornin’.
They’ve
gorn off to ’is
aunt
but the other one
–
she’s
still here, you bet, a-ringin’ an’ a-ringin’ an’ a-ringin’ at her bell, an’ givin’ no one no peace nowheres.’ He warmed to
his theme. ‘I wouldn’ve come if I’d knowed. House-maid went off yesterday wivout notice.
She’d
’ad as much as she wanted an’ only the ole cook –
well
I’m
not used to places wiv only a ole cook ’sides myself an’
her
upstairs a-ringin’ an’ a-ringin’ at her bell an’ givin’ no one no
peace nowheres an’ the other two off to their aunt’s. No place fit to call a place
I
don’t call it.’ He spat viciously into his powder. ‘Yus, an’ anyone
can have my job.’

‘Can I?’ said William eagerly.

During the last few minutes a longing to make paste by spitting into a powder and then to clean silver with it had grown in William’s soul till it was a consuming passion.

The boy looked at him in surprise and suspicion, not sure whether the question was intended as an insult.

‘What
you
doin’ an’ where
you
come from?’ he demanded aggressively.

‘Been fishin’,’ said William, ‘an’ I jolly nearly caught a salmon.’

The boy looked out of the window. It was still the first real day of spring.

‘Crumbs!’ he said enviously, ‘
fishin’.
’ He gazed with distaste at his work, ‘an’ me muckin’ about with this ’ere.’

‘Well,’ suggested William simply, ‘you go out an’ fish an’ I’ll go on muckin’ about with that.’

The boy stared at him again first in pure amazement and finally with speculation.

‘Yus,’ he said at last, ‘an’ you pinch my screw. Not
much
!’

‘No, I won’t,’ said William with great emphasis. ‘I won’t. Honest I won’t. I’ll give it you. I don’t want it. I only want,’ again he gazed
enviously at the boy’s engaging pastime, ‘I only want to clean silver same as you’re doin’.’

‘Then there’s the car to clean with the ’ose-pipe.’

William’s eyes gleamed.

‘I bet I can do that,’ he said, ‘an’ what after that?’

‘Dunno,’ said the boy, ‘that’s all they told me. The ole cook’ll tell you what to do next. I specks,’ optimistically, ‘she won’t notice you not
bein’ me with me only comin’ this mornin’ an’ her run off her feet what with
her
ringin’ her bell all the time an’ givin’ no one no peace an’
them
bein’ away. Anyway,’ he ended defiantly, ‘I don’t care if she does. It ain’t the sort of place
I’ve
bin used to an’ for two pins
I’d tell ’em so.’

He took a length of string from his pocket, a pin from a pincushion which hung by the fireplace, a jam jar from a cupboard, then looked uncertainly at William.

‘I c’n find a stick down there by the stream,’ he said, ‘an’ I won’t stay long. I bet I’ll be back before that ole cook comes down from
her
an’ – well, you put these here on an’ try ’n look like me an’ – I won’t be long.’

He slipped off his overalls and disappeared into the sunshine. William heard him run across the paved yard and close the door cautiously behind him. Then evidently he felt safe. There came the
sound of his whistling as he ran across the field.

William put on the overalls and gave himself up to his enthralling task. It was every bit as thrilling as he’d thought it would be. He spat and mixed and rubbed and spat and mixed and
rubbed in blissful absorption. . . . He got the powder all over his face and hair and hands and overalls. Then he heard the sound of someone coming downstairs. He bent his head low over his work.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a large hot-looking woman enter, wearing an apron and a print dress.

‘Gosh!’ she exclaimed as though in despair. ‘Gosh! of all the
places!
’

At that minute a bell rang loudly and with a groan she turned and went from the room again. William went on with his task of cleaning the silver. The novelty of the process was wearing off and
he was beginning to feel rather tired of it. He amused himself by tracing patterns upon the surface of the silver with the paste he had manufactured. He took a lot of trouble making a funny face
upon the teapot which fortunately had a plain surface.

Then the large woman came down again. She entered the kitchen groaning and saying ‘Oh, Lor!’ and she was summoned upstairs again at once by an imperious peal of the bell. After a few
minutes she came down again, still groaning and saying, ‘Oh, Lor! . . . First she wants hot milk an’ then she wants cold milk an’ then she wants beef tea an’ then the Lord
only knows what she wants . . . first one thing an’ then another – I’ve fair had enough of it an’
them
goin’ off to their aunt’s an’ that Ellen
’oppin’ it an’
you
not much help to a body, are you?’ she asked sarcastically. Then she looked at his face and screamed. ‘My gosh! . . . What’s
’appened to you?’

‘Me?’ said William blankly.

‘Yes. Your face’ as gone an’ changed since jus’ a few minutes ago. What’s ’appened to it?’

‘Nothin’,’ said William.

‘Well, it’s my nerves, then,’ she said shrilly. ‘I’m startin’ seein’ things wrong. An’ no wonder. . . . Well, I’ve ’ad enough of it, I
’ave, an’ I’m goin’ ’ome . . .
now . . .
first that Ellen ’oppin’ it an’ then
them
goin’ off an’ then
’er
badgerin’ the life out of me. An’ then your face changin’ before me very eyes. Me nervous system’s wore out, that’s what it is, an’ I’ve ’ad enough
of it. When people’s faces start changin’ under me very eyes it shows I needs a change an’ I’m goin’ to ’ave one. That Ellen ain’t the only one what can
’op it. ‘
Er
an’ ’er bell-ringing – an’ – an’
you
an’ your face-changin’! ’Taint no place for a respectable woman.
You
can ’ave a taste of waitin’ on ’er an’ you can tell
them
I’ve gone an’ why – you an’ your face!’

During this tirade she had divested herself of her apron and clothed herself in her coat and hat. She stood now and looked at William for a minute in scornful silence. Then her glance wandered
to his operations.

‘Ugh!’ she said in disgust, ‘you nasty little messer, you! Call yourself a house-boy – changin’ your face every minute. What d’you think you are? A
blinkin’ cornelian? An’ messin’ about like that. What d’you think you’re doin’? Distemperin’ the silver or cleanin’ it?’

At this moment came another irascible peal at the bell.

‘Listen!’ said the fat woman. ‘’Ark at ’er! Well, I’m orf. I’m fair finished, I am. An’ you can go or stay
has
you please! Serve ’em
right to come ’ome an’ find us
hall
gone. Serve ’er right if you went up to ’er an’ did a bit of face changin’ at ’er just to scare ’er same
as you did me. Do ’er good. Drat ’er – an’ all of you.’

She went out of the kitchen and slammed the back door. Then she went out of the paved yard and slammed the door. Then she went across the field and out of the field into the road and slammed the
gate.

William stood and looked about him. A bell rang again with vicious intensity and he realised with mingled excitement and apprehension that he and the mysterious ringer were the only occupants of
the house. The ringing went on and on and on.

William stood beneath the bell-dial and watched the blue disc waggle about with dispassionate interest. The little blue disc was labelled ‘Miss Pilliter’. Then he bethought himself
of his next duty. It was cleaning the car with the hose. His spirits rose at the prospect.

The bell was still ringing wildly, furiously, hysterically, but its ringing did not trouble William. He went out into the yard to find the car. It was in the garage and just near it was a hose
pipe.

William, much thrilled by this discovery, began to experiment with the hose pipe. He found a tap by which it could be turned off and on, by which it could be made to play fiercely or languidly.
William experimented with this for some time. It was even more fascinating than the silver cleaning. There was a small leak near the nozzle which formed a little fountain. William cleaned the car
by playing on to it wildly and at random, making enthralling water snakes and serpents by writhing the pipe to and fro. He deluged the car for about a quarter of an hour in a state of pure ecstasy.
. . . The bell could still be heard ringing in the house, but William heeded it not. He was engrossed heart and mind and soul in his manipulation of the hose pipe. At the end of the quarter of an
hour he laid down the pipe and went to examine the car. He had performed his task rather too thoroughly. Not only was the car dripping outside; it was also dripping inside. There were pools of
water on the floor at the back and in the front. There were pools on all the seats. Too late William realised that he should have tempered thoroughness with discretion. Still, he thought
optimistically, it would dry in time. His gaze wandered round. It might be a good plan to clean the walls of the garage while he was about it. They looked pretty dirty.