Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

16 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

TRIPLE BOB MAJOR:

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

Copyright.) TRIPLE BOB MAJOR: THE STORY OF SOME CHRISTMAS CHIMES. BY ADELINE SERGEANT, Author of "Caspar Brooks' Daughter," Christmas Rose," &c. Believe in ghosts? No, I don't believe in ghosts exactly, but I've had one or two queer experiences in my time. One in particular— one that I've never heard any explanation of, and don't want to explain. Like to hear the story, sir 1 It isn't the common every-day ghost-story, you know in fact, there isn't a ghost in it. You could hardly call it a ghost- story if you tried, but it was an odd thing to happen, all the same. You'd like to hear it, you say? Well, sit down, and I'll tell you the story. I generally go over it every Christmas. My friends round about here like to hear it, though one would think that they'd heard it often enough but now and then there's a stranger present, or the young lads and lasses growing up say that they want it, or something and so I fall to telling it Christmas after Christmas, as I sit here by the fire, and listen to the Christmas chimes. Aye, there they go I was a ringer once in my young days, and many a time have I taken part in playing the chimes on Christmas Eve and at otherfestive times. We're famous for bell- ringing in this part of the world, you know, sir. They don't do it so well in the South, I've heard, as we do in the North—don't take such a pride in it, I believe. Our old church has got the finest peal o' bells in the county. And the squire's grandfather—dead more than sixty years ago—he that gwe the bells to tho church, left in his will that directly after his funeral the ringers was to go to the belfry and ring a triple bob major—the full chimes, you know, as takes a great deal of skill to do, and of which we were always proud in this village of doing well. They did it as soon as ever his body was laid in the grave, and they did it with a will. I can just remember it myself, and they say those bells could be heard five-and-twenty miles off when the wind was set in that direction, and that the people in Saltbury streets-twenty-five miles away if it's a step—stopped their work to listen. Well, he was buried on a Christmas Eve, and partly out of memory of him, and partly in honour of the day, it's been the custom ever since, sir, for the ringers of this little village of Denby to go up to the belfry every Christmas Eve and give a triple bob major, as reg'lar as the year comes round. Twenty-five miles seems a good way for the sound of those bells to travel, don't it, sir ? What would you say if I told you that they'd been heard thousands o' miles away ? You'd laugh at me, I suppose, as strangers. mostly do. But just let me tell you my story. I was born and bred in the village of Denby, and one of the first things I remember was the triple bob major rung on these bells when the old squire died. I'll be one o' those ringers myself when I grow up," I said to my mother then—she's often repeated the words. "I'll help to ring those chimes when I'm a man." And so I did, and was one of the best bell- ringers in the parish by the time I was one-and- twenty. I thought a good deal of myself at that time, I can tell you. I was a clever workman, a prosperous man in my way six foot two in my stocking-feet, and fresh-complexioned and well-looking, as I was told. The parson and the squire both made a good lot of me, and I suppose I was as hare-brained and conceited a young chap as you could have found in all the country-side. But the conceit was taken out of me when my time came. I was about three-and-twenty when I met Kate Ashworth, and fell head over ears in love with her. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen, and she was a stranger in Denby— which made her charm the greater, as I've heard people say—and there was scarce a young fellow in the place as did not lose his heart over her. Straight as a young poplar she was, and graceful as a fawn or a kitten with big mischievous brown eyes and hair that wouldn't lie straight upon her forehead with a bloom on her cheeks liketheftushof a rose-leaf, and pretty pouting red lips that seemed to beg you to kiss them, though she would have been mighty angry if you had accepted the invitation. She was a good, sweet, innocent girl, as full of fun as she could be, but meaning no harm, mind you, and willing to cut off he: right hand sooner than hurt you—if she could he. it. She couldn't help it that was the worst of it. She was so pretty and winsome and sweet that we lost our heads as well as our hearts. And mischief followed, as it always does when men lose their heads about a girl. "0 Andrew," she said to me once, with her pretty eyes red with crying, "I do wish they'd leave me alone. Father wants me to do one thing and mother another and then there's you—and—and Frank Yes, that was the mischief of it. There was Frank Frank Norris was my cousin, and, till he saw Kate, he had always been my friend. I'd been first in the field. I had got Kate to go out walking with me, which is what we call keeping company in this part o' the world, and Frank had no right to interfere. We weren't, so to speak, right down promised to each other, Kate and me, but we was next door to it, and I had made up my mind that we would be married by Christmas, when Cousin Frank came home from Saltbury and spoiled it all. He was not the sort of man that we men admire, poor chap but he had a way with him that women seemed to like. He was not more than five foot ten in height, and a bit spare and pale looking, but he had big dark eyes and a wonderful voice, fit to charm a bird off a tree— so sweet and clear it was. To hear him sing was something you don t easily i.orget, and what with his singing, and his dark eyes, and the soft caressing ways of him, he won Kate's heart away from me, and nearly drove me mad with jealous rage. More than once I thought I'd pick a quarrel with him, and give him such a thrashing as he d never had in all his days before. More than once I went so far as to wish in my own soul that I could stick a knife into him and end his life and my own, but I folt that it was the devil that was trying to enter into me, and 1 kept it out as well as I knew how. And at last I went to Kate, and I begged her to tell me true whether it was me or Frank that she cared for, and what she wanted me to do. Well, sir, I don't blame Kate. Some people might blame her, but I don't. I know that I was in a blind rage, and must have frightened her out of her senses. Any way, she coaxed me and kissed me, and said she loved me dearly, and what was Frank to her ? and so on, until she had calmed me down, and sent me back to my work quite happy and trustful, and almost hoping that she'd be my wife at Christmas after all. But she put me off and put me off, and nothing was settled when the next triple bob major was rung at Denby church steeple on Christmas Eve. Nothing between her and me, I mean, for thete -was something settled between her and Frank that very night, and on Christmas morning we all knew that she had run off with him and left not even a word behind to say that she was sorry -for what she'd done. It was all up with me then. I left off my work, and my bell-ringing, and everything else I'd taken an interest in. At first I went on the drink, but, thank God not for long. I wasn't my way. But 1 Coulclnt live in lJenbY after ihat. I was restless and unfit for anything, and finally 1 left the place and took my passage for ":110 States, and loafed about there for a number f years, vithout once writing home nor he;u-g what had Vecome of Frank and Kate. You think that odd, may be ] Well, not so odd as it might appear. I had no near relation left-father and mother and all was gone, and seemed no reason why I should care for Qonby more than any other place. Indeed, I a sort of loathing at the thought of it, and caid to myself that I could never bear to go nigh the place again. Eh, dear, how things fall out, for you see hn ending my days at Denby after One of the things that riled me most was the thought of the Denby bella. It was while we were getting through that triple bob major on Christmas Eve that Fiapk and Kate went off. If I'd not been in the belfry, busily engaged, as they knew well, all that time, they might not r £ iurul it sa in -cRt. awai. A nrl ESB gave me a sort of sickening Horror of the chimes, so that it seemed to me I would rather die than hear them rung again. No," I said to myself, "no more of your bell-ringing for me, thankee. I'd sooner forgive Frank Norris for the wrong he's done me than listen to another triple bob major rung on the Denby bells," says I. "And III do neither, so help me God I said. And a wicked oath it was, sir, and one that would ha* been better honoured by breaking than by keep. ing, as I'm told the poet says. For my anger was hot against Frank and against his wife, and I would have made them suffer, if I could, for all that I had suffered for their sake. There'snoneed to tellyou the history of the next few years. Sometimes I prospered, sometimes I had bad luck—generally the latter. I drifted from place to place, too restless to stay long r.r.ywhere, and generally preferring the wildest and most outlandish spots, chiefly because I wanted to be out of reach of what folks call the "church-going bell." I couldn't bear the bells If ever I had to be in a city, I kept out of their way as well as I could, even going the length of riding into the country—prairie, hill, or forest, whichever came handiest—so that I should never bear those awful church-going bells. It was like a kind of madness, as you may say, sir, and it can honestly tell you—ten years or ::(¡¡8. v ell, at the end 01 years I was in an out- landish place enough. I needn't explain how I came there. I was helping some men, mostly Americans, to load a vessel with timber. In order to get it we had to go inland a little distance, rowing up the river in small boats to the spots where the best trees were to be found, mid camping out for a night or two in places where we thought it worth our while to stay. it was a queer, swampy place, very unhealthy warming with mosquitoes and venomous rep- lies, and the water full of alligators, or cay- as they call them in those parts. Even noonday it was dark, for the trees almost met iverhead, above the narrow stream, and were ioincd together by creepers as thick as my arm, j t h great yellow and scarlet flowers growing on hem. Ttm monkeys used to climb along those reeper-rqpss, and sit on the trees jabbering and aalang fJS at us. It was an uncanny place, ml it gave me the feeling that I'd relied a spot which God had forgotten, and iat if there was any Power about, it was a Vwer of Evil. The fearful cries and screams hat rang in our ears at night used to wake me p all in a cold sweat, many and many a time nd the Portuguese sailors who were with us ;sed to cross themselves whenever they heard we wild noises—to keep the devils away, they id, poor heathen souls At night we hung our hammocks between the rees, wrapped ourselves in blankets, and tried sleep as best we could. Before we were there long we found that we in the neighbourhood of an Indian camp, d as we knew that our safety lay in friendship ith the natives, we laid ourselves out to be •vil, and to make them all sorts of small resents. The men had gone off on a fighting r hunting expedition, we discovered, and only he women, children, and aged folk remained ehind. The women brought us fruit, and owed us how to snare the birds they were rnple and good-natured, and, while young, lender and extremely beautiful. With one of these women I made friends, fot took a fancy to her children, a black eyed baby ■lid a fine little fellow of about five years old, rliom I managed to cure of a fever by some imple remedies that I carried about with me. • lie mother's gratitude knew no bounds. She ■•'as always bringing me fruit and native de- cades of every kind, and once or twice 1 saw hat she was trying to communicate some piece f information to me but as we each knew only few words of the other's language, the attempt 'as at fust a failure. At sundown one day, however, she managed o make me understand that someone in the 'amp was ill, and that she thought I could cure lim. I hesitated at first about going, as I fancied hat it might be only a trap, and that they wanted to take me prisoner but her soft eyes ookcd so melancholy and so appealing, and her gestures were so eloquent, that I yielded at last, nd followed her to the camp. he took me into a small tent, which stood ather apart from the rest of the Indian' dwell- age. and there I saw a man lying on the round, evidently in the grip of the fever which Grangers were liable to in that part of the world. iut I saw at once that he was no Indian. He as dressed in European clothing, and the words hat he muttered in his delirium were English .vords. And the name that recurred oftenest .vas one that had once been familiar to me, and leeply loved. Kate! Kate!" he liuttcred again and again. "Come to me, Kate, 'ny Fate You will guess who it was. Before I could 3ee his face, in the dim light of the tent, I knew •ihat I had found my cousin, my enemy, the man had torn from me the woman 1 loved bettet ban my soul. Frank Norris lay helpless before :ie in that lonely Indian tent. I never knew exactly how he came there. I that he was a prisoner of war, and that a horrible by lingering torture lay before iiirn. Better to die of fever than to die that way. Better still to escape from the camp alto- gether to be placed in one of our boats, and taken to the vessel at the mouth of the river, where perhaps he could be nursed back to life and health. It was I who had to decide his fate. It lay in my hands, and I had sworn to punish Frank Norris for his treachery to me, if ever the chance were mine. And it was mine now. What should I do ? I laughed aloud. I think that for fie moment I wns a little mad. Lights danced before my eyes strange voices sounded in my ears a sort of drunkenness seemed to take possession of my whole being. "Ah, ha I cried The Lord hath delivered my enemy into my hands. And as I said the words my cousin opened his eyes and looked at me, and the light of memory came back into his wan and sunken face. Andrew he said. "Yes, I am here," I answered. It is no dream ? said he. "Not a bit of it," I said. "It's Andrew Norris, in the flesh, whom God has brought here to punish you for the wrong you did him ten years ago." He looked at me without a word, and 1 thought that his large dark eyes were very sad. What shall I do ?" I asked him. My best plan would be to cure you of your fever, and leave you to be burnt and hacked to pieces by tiiese Indian devils, I think. They have a wa, of roasting their captives piecenvyil.- which out- "nos :mvtlung we En^lishnr could dream of Or 1 could Kill you now, as you lie there, only 1J seems too merciful to let you die so quickly, blow, lingering torture would be best." tl I had my knife in my hand, and I let him see dde g etanfl. hBut he looked at me steadily, and 1 110 lIlC. All right, Andrew, ho said, in his faint, weary voice. I deserve it, my boy. I treated you shamefully and I've treated her badly too. She doesn t know where I am. I got tired-I ran away from her, brute that I was. Kill mo if you like, but go back and tell her-tell her that I repented—before I died." You are right in saying that you were a brute, I answered grimly, for I didn't believe 111 his penitence, you see—no, not one bit 1 thought he was putting it on to humbua *mo I've sworn to punish you, and I mean to do it' whatever you say. The only question is whether I shall kill you now or leave it for tho Indians to do "Kill me now," he said, and tore his vest open, so as to leave it easy for me to use the knife. I lifted it-I lifted it high as my head, and God knows I meant to use it, too, when I heard something which made my hand fall as if it had been struck powerless. Frank heard it too. He raised himself a little on his side and listened. There, in the midst of a South American forest, with no Christian church within miles of us, and at the very spot where I had said I could not feel that there was a God, we both of us, believe me or not, as you choose—we both of us heard the bells of Denby Church. "It's Denby bells," said Frank, looking me in the eyes. "A triple bob major," I muttered back, after listening for a minute or two longer. So it must be Christmas Eve." I dropped the knife. Before I' knew what I was doing I was on my knees. And there, 'T T _hq=-4 that triple oob major which the ringers always play on the bells of Denby steeple on Christmas Eve. When at last it died away I found that I was holding my cousin by the hand. "Forgive me, Andrew, I heard him say. "I wronged you but it's Christmas time, and we've heard what no man has ever heard before- the bells of Denby steeple five thousand miles away." "I swore before God that I'd never forgive you, Frank, and that I'd never listen to those bells again," I said, with a sob in my voice that almost choked me when I tried to say the words. But I've done both now, and I ask you to forgive me, too, Frank—dear old Frank. And I'll get you away from this blessed old hole, and cure your fever, and take you back to England, and, please God, you and me and Kate will listen together to the chimes from Denby steeple next Christmas Eve." And then I fell to blubbering like a female, and Frank looks at me out of those great dark eyes of his, and says, Kiss me, Andrew," says he, for I'm dying, Andrew, and I can't hardly see your face." And as I kissed him I thought I heard the bells of Denby Church again but 'twas only for a moment, and when I lifted up my face poor Frank was dead. I told my comrades about him, and some of us dug a grave for him, and said a prayer or two, and planted a wooden cross at the head of the grave. But from that moment I couldn't rest until I found a way of getting back to Eng- land for I wanted to go to Denby and hear tho bells again. Also I wanted sorely to find poor Kate, and tell her of her husband's end. I found her, as I had expected, at Denby village so changed, so broken down, that no one would have thought her the same woman—ex- cept one who loved her as I did. Yes, I loved her still, and when she had recovered from the sorrow of Frank's desertion and of Frank's death, she learned—my Kate !-to love me too. But, as I have often told her, it was not love of Kate, after all, but the bells of Denby Church that brought me home. And they gave us a triple bob major on our wedding-day. There the ringers are striking up again. I'm an old man, now, but I love to hear them still. Go where you will, sir, you'll not often hear a finer performance than a triple bob major on the bells of Denby church But you'll never hear it, as I heard it, in a South American forest, five thousand miles away from home.

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