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CHAPTER XXVIII

LOOKS AFTER OLIVER, AND PROCEEDS WITH HIS ADVENTURES

'Wolves tear your throats!' muttered Sikes, grinding his teeth.
'I wish I was among some of you; you'd howl the hoarser for it.'

As Sikes growled forth this imprecation, with the most desperate
ferocity that his desperate nature was capable of, he rested the
body of the wounded boy across his bended knee; and turned his
head, for an instant, to look back at his pursuers.

There was little to be made out, in the mist and darkness; but
the loud shouting of men vibrated through the air, and the
barking of the neighbouring dogs, roused by the sound of the
alarm bell, resounded in every direction.

'Stop, you white-livered hound!' cried the robber, shouting after
Toby Crackit, who, making the best use of his long legs, was
already ahead. 'Stop!'

The repetition of the word, brought Toby to a dead stand-still.
For he was not quite satisfied that he was beyond the range of
pistol-shot; and Sikes was in no mood to be played with.

'Bear a hand with the boy,' cried Sikes, beckoning furiously to
his confederate. 'Come back!'

Toby made a show of returning; but ventured, in a low voice,
broken for want of breath, to intimate considerable reluctance as
he came slowly along.

'Quicker!' cried Sikes, laying the boy in a dry ditch at his
feet, and drawing a pistol from his pocket. 'Don't play booty
with me.'

At this moment the noise grew louder. Sikes, again looking
round, could discern that the men who had given chase were
already climbing the gate of the field in which he stood; and
that a couple of dogs were some paces in advance of them.

'It's all up, Bill!' cried Toby; 'drop the kid, and show 'em your
heels.' With this parting advice, Mr. Crackit, preferring the
chance of being shot by his friend, to the certainty of being
taken by his enemies, fairly turned tail, and darted off at full
speed. Sikes clenched his teeth; took one look around; threw
over the prostrate form of Oliver, the cape in which he had been
hurriedly muffled; ran along the front of the hedge, as if to
distract the attention of those behind, from the spot where the
boy lay; paused, for a second, before another hedge which met it
at right angles; and whirling his pistol high into the air,
cleared it at a bound, and was gone.

'Ho, ho, there!' cried a tremulous voice in the rear. 'Pincher!
Neptune! Come here, come here!'

The dogs, who, in common with their masters, seemed to have no
particular relish for the sport in which they were engaged,
readily answered to the command. Three men, who had by this time
advanced some distance into the field, stopped to take counsel
together.

'My advice, or, leastways, I should say, my ORDERS, is,' said the
fattest man of the party, 'that we 'mediately go home again.'

'I am agreeable to anything which is agreeable to Mr. Giles,'
said a shorter man; who was by no means of a slim figure, and who
was very pale in the face, and very polite: as frightened men
frequently are.

'I shouldn't wish to appear ill-mannered, gentlemen,' said the
third, who had called the dogs back, 'Mr. Giles ought to know.'

'Certainly,' replied the shorter man; 'and whatever Mr. Giles
says, it isn't our place to contradict him. No, no, I know my
sitiwation! Thank my stars, I know my sitiwation.' To tell the
truth, the little man DID seem to know his situation, and to know
perfectly well that it was by no means a desirable one; for his
teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

'You are afraid, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

'I an't,' said Brittles.

'You are,' said Giles.

'You're a falsehood, Mr. Giles,' said Brittles.

'You're a lie, Brittles,' said Mr. Giles.

Now, these four retorts arose from Mr. Giles's taunt; and Mr.
Giles's taunt had arisen from his indignation at having the
responsibility of going home again, imposed upon himself under
cover of a compliment. The third man brought the dispute to a
close, most philosophically.

'I'll tell you what it is, gentlemen,' said he, 'we're all
afraid.'

'Speak for yourself, sir,' said Mr. Giles, who was the palest of
the party.

'So I do,' replied the man. 'It's natural and proper to be
afraid, under such circumstances. I am.'

'So am I,' said Brittles; 'only there's no call to tell a man he
is, so bounceably.'

These frank admissions softened Mr. Giles, who at once owned that
HE was afraid; upon which, they all three faced about, and ran
back again with the completest unanimity, until Mr. Giles (who
had the shortest wind of the party, as was encumbered with a
pitchfork) most handsomely insisted on stopping, to make an
apology for his hastiness of speech.

'But it's wonderful,' said Mr. Giles, when he had explained,
'what a man will do, when his blood is up. I should have
committed murder--I know I should--if we'd caught one of them
rascals.'

As the other two were impressed with a similar presentiment; and
as their blood, like his, had all gone down again; some
speculation ensued upon the cause of this sudden change in their
temperament.

'I know what it was,' said Mr. Giles; 'it was the gate.'

'I shouldn't wonder if it was,' exclaimed Brittles, catching at
the idea.

'You may depend upon it,' said Giles, 'that that gate stopped the
flow of the excitement. I felt all mine suddenly going away, as
I was climbing over it.'

By a remarkable coincidence, the other two had been visited with
the same unpleasant sensation at that precise moment. It was
quite obvious, therefore, that it was the gate; especially as
there was no doubt regarding the time at which the change had
taken place, because all three remembered that they had come in
sight of the robbers at the instant of its occurance.

This dialogue was held between the two men who had surprised the
burglars, and a travelling tinker who had been sleeping in an
outhouse, and who had been roused, together with his two mongrel
curs, to join in the pursuit. Mr. Giles acted in the double
capacity of butler and steward to the old lady of the mansion;
Brittles was a lad of all-work: who, having entered her service a
mere child, was treated as a promising young boy still, though he
was something past thirty.

Encouraging each other with such converse as this; but, keeping
very close together, notwithstanding, and looking apprehensively
round, whenever a fresh gust rattled through the boughs; the
three men hurried back to a tree, behind which they had left
their lantern, lest its light should inform the thieves in what
direction to fire. Catching up the light, they made the best of
their way home, at a good round trot; and long after their dusky
forms had ceased to be discernible, the light might have been
seen twinkling and dancing in the distance, like some exhalation
of the damp and gloomy atmosphere through which it was swiftly
borne.

The air grew colder, as day came slowly on; and the mist rolled
along the ground like a dense cloud of smoke. The grass was wet;
the pathways, and low places, were all mire and water; the damp
breath of an unwholesome wind went languidly by, with a hollow
moaning. Still, Oliver lay motionless and insensible on the spot
where Sikes had left him.

Morning drew on apace. The air become more sharp and piercing,
as its first dull hue--the death of night, rather than the birth
of day--glimmered faintly in the sky. The objects which had
looked dim and terrible in the darkness, grew more and more
defined, and gradually resolved into their familiar shapes. The
rain came down, thick and fast, and pattered noisily among the
leafless bushes. But, Oliver felt it not, as it beat against
him; for he still lay stretched, helpless and unconscious, on his
bed of clay.

At length, a low cry of pain broke the stillness that prevailed;
and uttering it, the boy awoke. His left arm, rudely bandaged in
a shawl, hung heavy and useless at his side; the bandage was
saturated with blood. He was so weak, that he could scarcely
raise himself into a sitting posture; when he had done so, he
looked feebly round for help, and groaned with pain. Trembling
in every joint, from cold and exhaustion, he made an effort to
stand upright; but, shuddering from head to foot, fell prostrate
on the ground.

After a short return of the stupor in which he had been so long
plunged, Oliver: urged by a creeping sickness at his heart,
which seemed to warn him that if he lay there, he must surely
die: got upon his feet, and essayed to walk. His head was dizzy,
and he staggered to and from like a drunken man. But he kept up,
nevertheless, and, with his head drooping languidly on his
breast, went stumbling onward, he knew not whither.

And now, hosts of bewildering and confused ideas came crowding on
his mind. He seemed to be still walking between Sikes and
Crackit, who were angrily disputing--for the very words they
said, sounded in his ears; and when he caught his own attention,
as it were, by making some violent effort to save himself from
falling, he found that he was talking to them. Then, he was alone
with Sikes, plodding on as on the previous day; and as shadowy
people passed them, he felt the robber's grasp upon his wrist.
Suddenly, he started back at the report of firearms; there rose
into the air, loud cries and shouts; lights gleamed before his
eyes; all was noise and tumult, as some unseen hand bore him
hurriedly away. Through all these rapid visions, there ran an
undefined, uneasy conscious of pain, which wearied and tormented
him incessantly.

Thus he staggered on, creeping, almost mechanically, between the
bars of gates, or through hedge-gaps as they came in his way,
until he reached a road. Here the rain began to fall so heavily,
that it roused him.

He looked about, and saw that at no great distance there was a
house, which perhaps he could reach. Pitying his condition, they
might have compassion on him; and if they did not, it would be
better, he thought, to die near human beings, than in the lonely
open fields. He summoned up all his strength for one last trial,
and bent his faltering steps towards it.

As he drew nearer to this house, a feeling come over him that he
had seen it before. He remembered nothing of its details; but
the shape and aspect of the building seemed familiar to him.

That garden wall! On the grass inside, he had fallen on his
knees last night, and prayed the two men's mercy. It was the
very house they had attempted to rob.

Oliver felt such fear come over him when he recognised the place,
that, for the instant, he forgot the agony of his wound, and
thought only of flight. Flight! He could scarcely stand: and
if he were in full possession of all the best powers of his
slight and youthful frame, whither could he fly? He pushed
against the garden-gate; it was unlocked, and swung open on its
hinges. He tottered across the lawn; climbed the steps; knocked
faintly at the door; and, his whole strength failing him, sunk
down against one of the pillars of the little portico.

It happened that about this time, Mr. Giles, Brittles, and the
tinker, were recruiting themselves, after the fatigues and
terrors of the night, with tea and sundries, in the kitchen. Not
that it was Mr. Giles's habit to admit to too great familiarity
the humbler servants: towards whom it was rather his wont to
deport himself with a lofty affability, which, while it
gratified, could not fail to remind them of his superior position
in society. But, death, fires, and burglary, make all men
equals; so Mr. Giles sat with his legs stretched out before the
kitchen fender, leaning his left arm on the table, while, with
his right, he illustrated a circumstantial and minute account of
the robbery, to which his bearers (but especially the cook and
housemaid, who were of the party) listened with breathless
interest.

'It was about half-past tow,' said Mr. Giles, 'or I wouldn't
swear that it mightn't have been a little nearer three, when I
woke up, and, turning round in my bed, as it might be so, (here
Mr. Giles turned round in his chair, and pulled the corner of the
table-cloth over him to imitate bed-clothes,) I fancied I heerd a
noise.'

At this point of the narrative the cook turned pale, and asked
the housemaid to shut the door: who asked Brittles, who asked the
tinker, who pretended not to hear.

'--Heerd a noise,' continued Mr. Giles. 'I says, at first, "This
is illusion"; and was composing myself off to sleep, when I heerd
the noise again, distinct.'

'What sort of a noise?' asked the cook.

'A kind of a busting noise,' replied Mr. Giles, looking round
him.

'More like the noise of powdering a iron bar on a nutmeg-grater,'
suggested Brittles.

'It was, when you HEERD it, sir,' rejoined Mr. Giles; 'but, at
this time, it had a busting sound. I turned down the clothes';
continued Giles, rolling back the table-cloth, 'sat up in bed;
and listened.'

The cook and housemaid simultaneously ejaculated 'Lor!' and drew
their chairs closer together.

'I heerd it now, quite apparent,' resumed Mr. Giles. '"Somebody,"
I says, "is forcing of a door, or window; what's to be done?
I'll call up that poor lad, Brittles, and save him from being
murdered in his bed; or his throat," I says, "may be cut from his
right ear to his left, without his ever knowing it."'

Here, all eyes were turned upon Brittles, who fixed his upon the
speaker, and stared at him, with his mouth wide open, and his
face expressive of the most unmitigated horror.

'I tossed off the clothes,' said Giles, throwing away the
table-cloth, and looking very hard at the cook and housemaid,
'got softly out of bed; drew on a pair of--'

'Ladies present, Mr. Giles,' murmured the tinker.

'--Of SHOES, sir,' said Giles, turning upon him, and laying great
emphasis on the word; 'seized the loaded pistol that always goes
upstairs with the plate-basket; and walked on tiptoes to his
room. "Brittles," I says, when I had woke him, "don't be
frightened!"'

'So you did,' observed Brittles, in a low voice.

'"We're dead men, I think, Brittles," I says,' continued Giles;
'"but don't be frightened."'

'WAS he frightened?' asked the cook.

'Not a bit of it,' replied Mr. Giles. 'He was as firm--ah!
pretty near as firm as I was.'

'I should have died at once, I'm sure, if it had been me,'
observed the housemaid.

'You're a woman,' retorted Brittles, plucking up a little.

'Brittles is right,' said Mr. Giles, nodding his head,
approvingly; 'from a woman, nothing else was to be expected. We,
being men, took a dark lantern that was standing on Brittle's
hob, and groped our way downstairs in the pitch dark,--as it
might be so.'

Mr. Giles had risen from his seat, and taken two steps with his
eyes shut, to accompany his description with appropriate action,
when he started violently, in common with the rest of the
company, and hurried back to his chair. The cook and housemaid
screamed.

'It was a knock,' said Mr. Giles, assuming perfect serenity.
'Open the door, somebody.'

Nobody moved.

'It seems a strange sort of a thing, a knock coming at such a
time in the morning,' said Mr. Giles, surveying the pale faces
which surrounded him, and looking very blank himself; 'but the
door must be opened. Do you hear, somebody?'

Mr. Giles, as he spoke, looked at Brittles; but that young man,
being naturally modest, probably considered himself nobody, and
so held that the inquiry could not have any application to him;
at all events, he tendered no reply. Mr. Giles directed an
appealing glance at the tinker; but he had suddenly fallen
asleep. The women were out of the question.

'If Brittles would rather open the door, in the presence of
witnesses,' said Mr. Giles, after a short silence, 'I am ready to
make one.'

'So am I,' said the tinker, waking up, as suddenly as he had
fallen asleep.

Brittles capitualated on these terms; and the party being
somewhat re-assured by the discovery (made on throwing open the
shutters) that it was now broad day, took their way upstairs;
with the dogs in front. The two women, who were afraid to stay
below, brought up the rear. By the advice of Mr. Giles, they all
talked very loud, to warn any evil-disposed person outside, that
they were strong in numbers; and by a master-stoke of policy,
originating in the brain of the same ingenious gentleman, the
dogs' tails were well pinched, in the hall, to make them bark
savagely.

These precautions having been taken, Mr. Giles held on fast by
the tinker's arm (to prevent his running away, as he pleasantly
said), and gave the word of command to open the door. Brittles
obeyed; the group, peeping timourously over each other's
shoulders, beheld no more formidable object than poor little
Oliver Twist, speechless and exhausted, who raised his heavy
eyes, and mutely solicited their compassion.

'A boy!' exclaimed Mr. Giles, valiantly, pushing the tinker into
the background. 'What's the matter with
the--eh?--Why--Brittles--look here--don't you know?'

Brittles, who had got behind the door to open it, no sooner saw
Oliver, than he uttered a loud cry. Mr. Giles, seizing the boy
by one leg and one arm (fortunately not the broken limb) lugged
him straight into the hall, and deposited him at full length on
the floor thereof.

'Here he is!' bawled Giles, calling in a state of great
excitement, up the staircase; 'here's one of the thieves, ma'am!
Here's a thief, miss! Wounded, miss! I shot him, miss; and
Brittles held the light.'

'--In a lantern, miss,' cried Brittles, applying one hand to the
side of his mouth, so that his voice might travel the better.

The two women-servants ran upstairs to carry the intelligence
that Mr. Giles had captured a robber; and the tinker busied
himself in endeavouring to restore Oliver, lest he should die
before he could be hanged. In the midst of all this noise and
commotion, there was heard a sweet female voice, which quelled it
in an instant.

'Giles!' whispered the voice from the stair-head.

'I'm here, miss,' replied Mr. Giles. 'Don't be frightened, miss;
I ain't much injured. He didn't make a very desperate
resistance, miss! I was soon too many for him.'

'Hush!' replied the young lady; 'you frighten my aunt as much as
the thieves did. Is the poor creature much hurt?'

'Wounded desperate, miss,' replied Giles, with indescribable
complacency.

'He looks as if he was a-going, miss,' bawled Brittles, in the
same manner as before. 'Wouldn't you like to come and look at
him, miss, in case he should?'

'Hush, pray; there's a good man!' rejoined the lady. 'Wait
quietly only one instant, while I speak to aunt.'

With a footstep as soft and gentle as the voice, the speaker
tripped away. She soon returned, with the direction that the
wounded person was to be carried, carefully, upstairs to Mr.
Giles's room; and that Brittles was to saddle the pony and betake
himself instantly to Chertsey: from which place, he was to
despatch, with all speed, a constable and doctor.

'But won't you take one look at him, first, miss?' asked Mr.
Giles, with as much pride as if Oliver were some bird of rare
plumage, that he had skilfully brought down. 'Not one little
peep, miss?'

'Not now, for the world,' replied the young lady. 'Poor fellow!
Oh! treat him kindly, Giles for my sake!'

The old servant looked up at the speaker, as she turned away,
with a glance as proud and admiring as if she had been his own
child. Then, bending over Oliver, he helped to carry him
upstairs, with the care and solicitude of a woman.





Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens
Category:
General Fiction

England - Social life and customs - 19th century
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