Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

“Has he?”

“Yes! and felt him; he too is a strange one. A few days ago he was told that Grant had been seen hovering about an old castle some two miles off in the bog; so one afternoon what does he do but, without saying a word to me⁠—for which, by the by, I ought to put him under arrest, though what I should do without Bagg I have no idea whatever⁠—what does he do but walk off to the castle, intending, as I suppose, to pay a visit to Jerry. He had some difficulty in getting there on account of the turf-holes in the bog, which he was not accustomed to; however, thither at last he got and went in. It was a strange lonesome place, he says, and he did not much like the look of it; however, in he went, and searched about from the bottom to the top and down again, but could find no one; he shouted and hallooed, but nobody answered, save the rooks and choughs, which started up in great numbers. ‘I have lost my trouble,’ said Bagg, and left the castle. It was now late in the afternoon, near sunset, when about halfway over the bog he met a man⁠—”

“And that man was⁠—”

“Jerry Grant! there’s no doubt of it. Bagg says it was the most sudden thing in the world. He was moving along, making the best of his way, thinking of nothing at all save a public-house at Swanton Morley,66 which he intends to take when he gets home and the regiment is disbanded⁠—though I hope that will not be for some time yet: he had just leaped a turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the distance of about six yards before him, he saw a fellow coming straight towards him. Bagg says that he stopped short, as suddenly as if he had heard the word halt, when marching at double-quick time. It was quite a surprise, he says, and he can’t imagine how the fellow was so close upon him before he was aware. He was an immense tall fellow⁠—Bagg thinks at least two inches taller than himself⁠—very well dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, for all the world like a squire when going out hunting. Bagg, however, saw at once that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a moment. ‘Good evening to ye, sodger,’ says the fellow, stepping close up to Bagg, and staring him in the face. ‘Good evening to you, sir! I hope you are well,’ says Bagg. ‘You are looking after someone?’ says the fellow. ‘Just so, sir,’ says Bagg, and forthwith seized him by the collar; the man laughed, Bagg says it was such a strange awkward laugh. ‘Do you know whom you have got hold of, sodger?’ said he. ‘I believe I do, sir,’ said Bagg, ‘and in that belief will hold you fast in the name of King George, and the quarter sessions;’ the next moment he was sprawling with his heels in the air. Bagg says there was nothing remarkable in that; he was only flung by a kind of wrestling trick, which he could easily have baffled, had he been aware of it. ‘You will not do that again, sir,’ said he, as he got up and put himself on his guard. The fellow laughed again more strangely and awkwardly than before; then, bending his body and moving his head from one side to the other as a cat does before she springs, and crying out, ‘Here’s for ye, sodger!’ he made a dart at Bagg, rushing in with his head foremost. ‘That will do, sir,’ says Bagg, and drawing himself back he put in a left-handed blow with all the force of his body and arm, just over the fellow’s right eye⁠—Bagg is a left-handed hitter, you must know⁠—and it was a blow of that kind which won him his famous battle at Edinburgh with the big Highland sergeant. Bagg says that he was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when he saw the fellow reel, fling out his arms, and fall to the ground. ‘And now, sir,’ said he, ‘I’ll make bold to hand you over to the quarter sessions, and, if there is a hundred pounds for taking you, who has more right to it than myself?’ So he went forward, but ere he could lay hold of his man the other was again on his legs, and was prepared to renew the combat. They grappled each other⁠—Bagg says he had not much fear of the result, as he now felt himself the best man, the other seeming half stunned with the blow⁠—but just then there came on a blast, a horrible roaring wind bearing night upon its wings, snow, and sleet, and hail. Bagg says he had the fellow by the throat quite fast, as he thought, but suddenly he became bewildered, and knew not where he was; and the man seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more and more, and the night poured down darker and darker, the snow and the sleet thicker and more blinding. ‘Lord have mercy upon us!’ said Bagg.”

Myself. A strange adventure that; it is well that Bagg got home alive.

John. He says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the fling he got was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling trick. But with respect to the storm, which rose up just in time to save the fellow, he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something Irish and supernatural.

Myself. I dare say he’s right. I have read of witchcraft in the Bible.

John. He wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he says that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he could master him, and hand him over