eBook - ePub
The Trumpet-Major
Thomas Hardy
This is a test
Share book
- 416 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
The Trumpet-Major
Thomas Hardy
Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations
About This Book
Hardy distrusted the application of nineteenth-century empiricism to history because he felt it marginalized important human elements. In The Trumpet-Major, the tale of a woman courted by three competing suitors during the Napoleonic wars, he explores the subversive effects of ordinary human desire and conflicting loyalties on systematized versions of history. This edition restores Hardy's original punctuation and removes the bowdlerisms forced upon the text on its initial publication.
Frequently asked questions
How do I cancel my subscription?
Can/how do I download books?
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
What is the difference between the pricing plans?
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlegoās features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan youāll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
What is Perlego?
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, weāve got you covered! Learn more here.
Do you support text-to-speech?
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Is The Trumpet-Major an online PDF/ePUB?
Yes, you can access The Trumpet-Major by Thomas Hardy in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & Classics. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
XXXIII. A DISCOVERY TURNS THE SCALE
In four-and-twenty hours Bob had recovered. But though physically himself again, he was not at all sure of his position as a patriot. He had that practical knowledge of seamanship of which the country stood much in need, and it was humiliating to find that impressment seemed to be necessary to teach him to use it for her advantage. Many neighbouring young men, less fortunate than himself, had been pressed and taken; and their absence seemed a reproach to him. He went away by himself into the mill-roof, and, surrounded by the corn-heaps, gave vent to self-condemnation.
āCertainly, I am no man to lie here so long for the pleasure of sighting that young girl forty times a day, and letting her sight meābless her eyes!ātill I must needs want a press-gang to teach me what Iāve forgot. And is it then all over with me as a British sailor? Weāll see.ā
When he was thrown under the influence of Anneās eyes again, which were more tantalizingly beautiful than ever just now (so it seemed to him), his intention of offering his services to the Government would wax weaker, and he would put off his final decision till the next day. Anne saw these fluctuations of his mind between love and patriotism, and being terrified by what she had heard of sea-fights, used the utmost art of which she was capable to seduce him from his forming purpose. She came to him in the mill, wearing the very prettiest of her morning jacketsāthe one that only just passed the waist, and was laced so tastefully round the collar and bosom. Then she would appear in her new hat, with a bouquet of primroses on one side; and on the following Sunday she walked before him in lemon-coloured boots, so that her feet looked like a pair of yellow-hammers flitting under her dress.
But dress was the least of the means she adopted for chaining him down. She talked more tenderly than ever; asked him to begin small undertakings in the garden on her account; she sang about the house, that the place might seem cheerful when he came in. This singing for a purpose required great effort on her part, leaving her afterwards very sad. When Bob asked her what was the matter, she would say, āNothing; only I am thinking how you will grieve your father, and cross his purposes, if you carry out your unkind notion of going to sea, and forsaking your place in the mill.ā
āYes,ā Bob would say uneasily. āIt will trouble him, I know.ā
Being also quite aware how it would trouble her, he would again postpone, and thus another week passed away.
All this time John had not come once to the mill. It appeared as if Miss Johnson absorbed all his time and thoughts. Bob was often seen chuckling over the circumstance. āA sly rascal!ā he said. āPretending on the day she came to be married that she was not good enough for me, when it was only that he wanted her for himself. How he could have persuaded her to go away is beyond me to say!ā
Anne could not contest this belief of her loverās, and remained silent; but there had more than once occurred to her mind a doubt of its probability. Yet she had only abandoned her opinion that John had schemed for Matilda, to embrace the opposite error; that, finding he had wronged the young lady, he had pitied and grown to love her.
āAnd yet Jack, when he was a boy, was the simplest fellow alive,ā resumed Bob. āBy George, though, I should have been hot against him for such a trick, if in losing her I hadnāt found a better! But sheāll never come down to him in the world: she has high notions now. I am afraid heās doomed to sigh in vain!ā
Though Bob regretted this possibility, the feeling was not reciprocated by Anne. It was true that she knew nothing of Matildaās temporary treachery, and that she disbelieved the story of her lack of virtue; but she did not like the woman. āPerhaps it will not matter if he is doomed to sigh in vain,ā she said. āBut I owe him no ill-will. I have profited by his doings, incomprehensible as they are.ā And she bent her fair eyes on Bob and smiled.
Bob looked dubious. āHe thinks he has affronted me, now I have seen through him, and that I shall be against meeting him. But, of course, I am not so touchy. I can stand a practical joke, as can any man who has been afloat. Iāll call and see him, and tell him so.ā
Before he started, Bob bethought him of something which would still further prove to the misapprehending John that he was entirely forgiven. He went to his room, and took from his chest a packet containing a lock of Miss Johnsonās hair, which she had given him during their brief acquaintance, and which till now he had quite forgotten. When, at starting, he wished Anne goodbye, it was accompanied by such a beaming face, that she knew he was full of an idea, and asked what it might be that pleased him so.
āWhy, this,ā he said, smacking his breast-pocket. āA lock of hair that Matilda gave me.ā
Anne sank back with parted lips.
āI am going to give it to Jackāheāll jump for joy to get it! And it will show him how willing I am to give her up to him, fine piece as she is.ā
āWill you see her to-day, Bob?ā Anne asked with an uncertain smile.
āO noāunless it is by accident.ā
On reaching the outskirts of the town he went straight to the barracks, and was lucky enough to find John in his room, at the left-hand corner of the quadrangle. John was glad to see him; but to Bobās surprise he showed no immediate contrition, and thus afforded no room for the brotherly speech of forgiveness which Bob had been going to deliver. As the trumpet-major did not open the subject, Bob felt it desirable to begin himself.
āI have brought ye something that you will value, Jack,ā he said, as they sat at the window, overlooking the large square barrack-yard. āI have got no further use for it, and you should have had it before if it had entered my head.ā
āThank you, Bob; what is it?ā said John, looking absently at an awkward squad of young men who were drilling in the enclosure.
āāTis a young womanās lock of hair.ā
āAh!ā said John, quite recovering from his abstraction, and slightly flushing. Could Bob and Anne have quarrelled? Bob drew the paper from his pocket, and opened it.
āBlack!ā said John.
āYesāblack enough.ā
āWhose?ā
āWhy, Matildaās.ā
āO, Matildaās!ā
āWhose did you think then?ā
Instead of replying, the trumpet-majorās face became as red as sunset, and he turned to the window to hide his confusion.
Bob was silent, and then he, too, looked into the court. At length he arose, walked to his brother, and laid his hand upon his shoulder. āJack,ā he said, in an altered voice, āyou are a good fellow. Now I see it all.ā
āO noāthatās nothing,ā said John hastily.
āYouāve been pretending that you care for this woman that I mightnāt blame myself for heaving you out from the otherāwhich is what Iāve done without knowing it.ā
āWhat does it matter?ā
āBut it does matter! Iāve been making you unhappy all these weeks and weeks through my thoughtlessness. They seemed to think at home, you know, John, that you had grown not to care for her; or I wouldnāt have done it for all the world!ā
āYou stick to her, Bob, and never mind me. She belongs to you. She loves you. I have no claim upon her, and she thinks nothing about me.ā
āShe likes you, John, thoroughly well; so does everybody; and if I hadnāt come home, putting my foot in itā That coming home of mine has been a regular blight upon the family! I ought never to have stayed. The sea is my home, and why couldnāt I bide there?ā
The trumpet-major drew Bobās discourse off the subject as soon as he could, and Bob, after some unconsidered replies and remarks, seemed willing to avoid it for the present. He did not ask John to accompany him home, as he had intended; and on leaving the barracks turned southward and entered the town to wander about till he could decide what to do.
It was the 3rd of September, but the Kingās watering-place still retained its summer aspect. The royal bathing-machine had been drawn out just as Bob reached Gloucester Buildings, and he waited a minute, in the lack of other distraction, to look on. Immediately that the Kingās machine had entered the water a group of florid men with fiddles, violoncellos, a trombone, and a drum, came forward, packed themselves into another machine that was in waiting, and were drawn out into the waves in the Kingās rear. All that was to be heard for a few minutes were the slow pulsations of the sea; and then a deafening noise burst from the interior of the second machine with power enough to split the boards asunder; it was the condensed mass of musicians inside, striking up the strains of āGod save the King,ā as his Majestyās head rose from the water. Bob took off his hat and waited till the end of the performance, which, intended as a pleasant surprise to George III. by the loyal burghers, was possibly in the watery circumstances tolerated rather than desired by that dripping monarch.
Loveday then passed on to the harbour, where he remained awhile, looking at the busy scene of loading and unloading craft and swabbing the decks of yachts; at the boats and barges rubbing against the quay wall, and at the houses of the merchants, some ancient structures of solid stone, others green-shuttered with heavy wooden bow-windows which appeared as if about to drop into the harbour by their own weight. All these things he gazed upon, and thought of one thingāthat he had caused great misery to his brother John.
The town clock struck, and Bob retraced his steps till he again approached the Esplanade and Gloucester Lodge, where the morning sun blazed in upon the house fronts, and not a spot of shade seemed to be attainable. A huzzaing attracted his attention, and he observed that a number of people had gathered before the Kingās residence, where a brown curricle had stopped, out of which stepped a hale man in the prime of life, wearing a blue uniform, gilt epaulettes, cocked hat, and sword, who crossed the pavement and went in. Bob went up and joined the group. āWhatās going on?ā he said.
āCaptain Hardy,ā replied a bystander.
āWhat of him?ā
āJust gone ināwaiting to see the King.ā
āBut the captain is in the West Indies?ā
āNo. The fleet is come home; they canāt find the French anywhere.ā
āWill they go and look for them again?ā asked Bob.
āO yes. Nelson is determined to find āem. As soon as heās refitted heāll put to sea again. Ah, hereās the King coming in.ā
Bob was so interested in what he had just heard that he scarcely noticed the arrival of the King, and a body of attendant gentlemen. He went on thinking of his new knowledge; Captain Hardy was come. He was doubtless staying with his family at their small manor-house at Posāham, a few miles from Overcombe, where he usually spent the intervals between his different cruises.
Loveday returned to the mill without further delay; and shortly explaining that John was very well, and would come soon, went on to talk of the arrival of Nelsonās captain.
āAnd is he come at last?ā said the miller, throwing his thoughts years backward. āWell can I mind when he first left home to go on board the Helena as midshipman!ā
āThatās not much to remember. I can remember it too,ā said Mrs. Loveday.
āāTis more than twenty years ago anyhow. And more than that, I can mind when he was born; I was a lad, serving my āprenticeship at the time. He has been in this house often and often when āa was young. When he came home after his first voyage he stayed about here a long time, and used to look in at the mill whenever he went past. āWhat will you be next, sir?ā said mother to him one day as he stood with his back to the doorpost. āA lieutenant, Dame Loveday,ā says he. āAnd what next?ā says she. āA commander.ā āAnd next?ā āNext, post-captain.ā āAnd then?ā āThen it will be almost time to die.ā Iād warrant that heād mind it to this very day if you were to ask him.ā
Bob heard all this with a manner of preoccupation, and soon retired to the mill. Thence he went to his room by the back passage, and taking his old seafaring garments from a dark closet in the wall conveyed them to the loft at the top of the mill, where he occupied the remaining spare moments of the day in brushing the mildew from their folds, and hanging each article by the window to get aired. In the evening he returned to the loft, and dressing himself in the old salt suit, went out of the house unobserved by anybody, and ascended the road towards Captain Hardyās native village and present temporary home.
The shadeless downs were now brown with the droughts of the passing summer, and few living things met his view, the natural rotundity of the elevation being only occasionally disturbed by the presence of a barrow, a thorn-bush, or a piece of dry wall which remained from some attempted enclosure. By the time that he reached the village it was dark, and the larger stars had begun to shine when he walked up to the door of the old-fashioned house which was the family residence of this branch of the South-Wessex Hardys.
āWill the captain allow me to wait on him to-night?ā inquired Loveday, explaining who and what he was.
The servant went away for a few minutes, and then told Bob that he might see the captain in the morning.
āIf thatās the case, Iāll come again,ā replied Bob, quite cheerful that failure was not absolute.
He had left the door but a few steps when he was called back and asked if he had walked all the way from Overcombe Mill on purpose.
Loveday replied modestly that he had done so.
āThen will you come in?ā He followed the speaker into a small study or office, and in a minute or two Captain Hardy entered.
The captain at this time was a bachelor of thirty-five, rather stout in build, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square broad face, plenty of chin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness. He surveyed Loveday from top to toe.
āRobert Loveday, sir, son of the miller at Overcombe,ā said Bob, making a low bow.
āAh! I remember your father, Loveday,ā the gallant seaman replied. āWell, what do you want to say to me?ā Seeing that Bob found it rather difficult to begin, he leant leisurely against the mantelpiece, and went on, āIs your father well and hearty? I have not seen him for many, many years.ā
āQuite well, thank āee.ā
āYou used to have a brother in the army, I think? What was his nameāJohn? A very fine fellow, if I recollect.ā
āYes, capān; heās there still.ā
āAnd you are in the merchant-service?ā
āLate first mate of the brig Pewit.ā
āHow is it youāre not on board a man-of-war?ā
āAy, sir, thatās the thing Iāve come about,ā said Bob, recovering confidence. āI should have been, but ātis womankind has hampered me. Iāve waited and waited on at home because of a young womanālady, I might have said, for sheās sprung from a higher class of society than I. Her father was a landscape painterāmaybe youāve heard of him, sir? The name is Garland.ā
āHe painted that view of our village here,ā said Captain Hardy, looking towards a dark little picture in the corner of the room.
Bob looked, and went on, as if to the picture, āWell, sir, I have found thatā However, the press-gang came a week or two ago, and didnāt get hold of me. I didnāt care to go aboard as a pressed man.ā
āThere has been a severe impressment. It is of course a disagreeable necessity, but it canāt be helped.ā
āSince then, sir, something has happened that makes me wish they had found me, and I have come to-night to ask if I could enter on board your ship the Victory.ā
The captain shook his head severely, and presently observed: āI am g...