Part 2

“Your sight mayn’t be so good as mine,” replied the other. “I can only just see his eyes glaring on me from between the bushes on yonder hedge, and I hear him mumbling something too. If I’m foiled again it will be all owing to your confounding parson. I hope to serve him out for this some day.”

“Never mind our passon, he can wrestle very well himself,” said Jackey in a cheerful tone, “and do like to see good play; so come on, at it agen.” Saying this he grasped his opponent in a “Cornish hug,” with more vigour than ever, laid him on his back as flat as a flounder, and said, “There, you have had three fair falls; but if they don’t satisfy ’e, I’ve more science to teach ’e yet.” The wrestler kept a sharp eye on the prostrate one, intending to give him another thumping qualk the instant he rose, unless he asked for quarter. During the half minute or so that he watched the demon crameing on the ground like a serpent, the sky became overcast, and the moon obscured with gathering clouds, which seemed bursting with thunder. Looking closely, in the dim light, at the gentleman in black, Jackey was frightened to see that, in a twinkling, his feet and legs had become like those of a huge bird; his skirts changed to a pair of wings; and his form was still changing to that of a dragon, when he flew away, just skimming the ground at first, and leaving in his wake a train of lurid flame; then soared aloft and entered the pitch black clouds, which, on the instant, became all ablaze with lightning, and thunders roared, echoing all around from hill to hill. As the black cloud ascended, with a whirling motion, it appeared like an immense wheel revolving in the air, flashing lightning and shooting thunder-bolts from all around its border.

The demon’s sudden change and flight, with the noxious vapours spread around, so confused and stupefied Jackey, that for a minute or so he lost sight of all above and below. Whilst still like one in a trance, gazing on the sky, now clear overhead, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Parson Wood say, in cheery tones, “Well done, my boy; I was proud to see thy courage and good play. See, there’s the devil’s battery,” continued he, pointing to a small black cloud so far away as to be almost lost to view; and casting a glance round he noticed, on a rock, Jackey’s gold-lace hat and the bag of money.

“Come, my son, rouse thee,” said he, “take up thy prizes and let’s be off homeward.”

The wrestler took up his hat, but looked askaunt on the bag of guineas, as if unwilling to touch it.

“Take the money,” urged Mr. Wood. “It’s fairly won; but some old sayings are passing in thy mind such as ‘A guinea of the devil’s money is sure to go, and take ten more with it.’ ‘What’s gained over the fiend’s back will slip away under his belly;’ and other old saws of the like meaning, which don’t refer to such money as that; but to unfair gains gotten by those thieves in heart who are too greedy to be honest. Yet even such often hold fast the cash for themselves and theirs, when the devil cries quits by taking them all at last.”

Trevail took up the bag, and, as he pocketed it, a flash of light drew their attention to the fiend’s retreat, now so high that it appeared a mere dot in the clear sky. They saw a streak of fire leave it, and, descending like a shooting star, fall in a neighbouring parish.

“Mark that, Jackey!” exclaimed Mr. Wood, “for it’s no other than your wrestling devil, or one of his company, who has come down amongst St. Endor witches; and it strikes me that we havn’t seen the last of him yet.”

“There’s a hut on a moor just where he dropped,” said Jackey, “in which a number of hags meet every now and then; and when they have agreed on the mischief they are to work, about midnight they fly away on their brooms or ragwort stalks. In the small hours of morning they are often seen beating homewards in the shape of hares. Many old hags over that way get what they like for the asking. If any one of them hap to be refused she’ll shake her bony finger at the one who denies her, and say, ‘You will wish you had,’ and sure enow, from the fear of some ill wish falling on them or theirs, the old witch is pretty sure to get all she looked for.”

On their way home Jackey thanked the parson most heartily for his protection, and told him that in the first bout he thought all was over for him in this world, when the Old One rose with him off the earth “ever so high.”

“You are mistaken in that, my son,” replied Mr. Wood, “it was only your fright on being seized unawares and suddenly lifted off the ground that made ye think so; for, to give the devil his due, he never tried to fly away with you. I saw it all, and precautions had been taken to guard against foul play on his part, if any tricks were attempted, as you will understand by-and-bye, when I tell you of my night’s work.”

Jackey didn’t contradict the reverend gentleman, but he was of the same opinion still; and whenever he told the story in after years, always asserted that on his first hitch he was taken up “towers high,” and still getting higher, until he came to close quarters with the Old One.

“I have had a busy time of it,” continued Mr. Wood. “Long before midnight I was on the ground—which I knew from your description to be the place of your encounter,—and summoned thither many powerful spirits, who attended with pleasure to see such a wrestling. They hadn’t, of late, beheld the like, though, in days of yore, contests between men and demons were not unfrequent. The one you have conquered is a devil of high rank. He came attended by a great number of lower degree; and precautions were taken to place around ye a ring of my true and valiant spirits, who made your opponent’s attendant fiends remain in an outer circle.

“Besides, there were crowds of vagrant spirits wandering to and fro, on the earth and in the air, as is their custom from midnight to cock-crowing; all of them stopped to witness your contest. They were all visible to me, though by you unseen; and well for ye it was so, because a sight of such beings would be sure to shock ye or any other unprepared mortal. Many in the crowd were very ghastly in appearance. Your demon’s retainers were in their usual form, which suits them for air or earth.

“Many bets were made between the spectators in both circles and overhead; and a great many of the demon’s backers are bound to serve the winners for ages. They don’t much mind that, however. Time hangs heavy on their hands; and of all spirits, fallen ones are the most restless, as it goes against their grain to do mortals a good turn. For the sake of some change in their wearisome existence they rise tempests, serve the evil behests of witches, and perform other acts of deviltry, such as we often hear of; yet they are a melancholy set that one might pity.”

The wrestler expressed his wonder at what the parson related; yet, from what he had heard of devils’ doings, wasn’t much surprised.

Over a while Mr. Wood resumed, “I am somewhat chagrined though all has gone well on the whole; for I was watching to see thee give three fair falls, intending then to rush on the devil and shame him, if possible, with a lusty thrashing with my hunting-whip, it’s fastened round my waist; but, as bad luck would have it, in getting hastily over the hedge my skirts caught in brambles, and I dropped my ebony staff. That instant, whilst it lay on the earth, the demon took a form which used to be common amongst the infernal brood. At his signal the attendant fiends formed a thunder-cloud to receive their chief. The guardian spirits, well pleased, only quitted their charge when my hand was laid on your shoulder; all the rest you saw.”

“I have often heard,” said Jackey, “of a dragon that burned Helston, was that a devil too?”

“Very likely, or something as bad,” replied Mr. Wood. “The tradition handed down simply says that, in old times, before there was a bar formed at the Loe, and when the tide flowed past the site of St. John’s Mill, a dragon often came from over sea and burnt the ancient town. Yet the dragon which visited Helston might only have been a northern pirate’s ship known by that name.

“I was going to tell you that I owe this wrestling devil a grudge. Who, indeed, in my place wouldn’t be vexed with the beast for taking the disguise he so impudently assumed? Decked as he was in a three cocked beaver and black garments, he might easily pass himself off for a clergyman, without a close scrutiny.”

“I thought sure he was,” said Jackey, “he wore a white neck-cloth too; and one could hardly make out if he had a cloven foot or no.”

From walking slowly home it was broad day when they arrived at the parsonage. Mr. Wood gave the wrestler a substantial breakfast of cold beef, bread, and ale. After a hearty meal, Jackey said, “I should be glad to serve your reverence at any hour by day or by night, for I owe you more than life.”

“Not so, my son,” the parson replied, “for I have only done my duty in guarding from the wolf a wild and thoughtless one of my flock.”

The money, however, did the wrestler but little if any good, and it was the cause of quarrels between him and his wife, and of both with their neighbours. Jackey soon learnt how it was rumoured all around that he had sold himself to the Old One to have his wishes gratified for a few years, with the usual consequences to follow. Now he had told nobody but his wife—of course, Mr. Wood’s prudence was not to be suspected,—and she had only spoken of her trouble to her crony, who went with her to the parson. Accordingly, dame Trevail accused her gossip of having spread many falsehoods round the parish, and abused her for the breach of confidence.

The crony retorted by saying, “Fool that thee art, however cust (canst) thee expect me, or anybody else, to keep thy secrets, when thee cusn’t keep them thyself? And what do I care; I han’t had any share of thy dirty money; by golls! I wedn’t touchen weth a peer of tongs; I han’t got a spoon long enow to sup weth thy old gentleman. All the neighbours do say that of late, since thee hast had thy new rig out, from top to toe, thee art become so huffish and toit (uncivil in reply) that they can’t venture to say ‘What cheer,’ or give thee the ‘time o’ day’; and that poor Cousin Jackey han’t got a minute’s peace in his own house with thy constant ballarggan (abuse) and naggan that will fret am to death before long. Then thee mayst wring thy hands and cry ‘bad as Jackey was, a es wes (worse) to live without am.’ Well, soase! my bedgownd and towser (large coarse apron to come all round and tie behind) es good enow for me or any other honest workan woman. They say that thee wert decked out like a lady in church a Sunday, with thy new covertail (kirtle) gownd, who but thee forsooth! A clean bedgownd, check-apron, and quilted-petticoat do more become thee. ’Tes no wender people do gibe thee for thy pride; and ’tes as good as an old ‘merable’ play to hear what they do say about thee. Now, go thee wast along home, and think over what I’ve told thee.”

For many years after this Jackey continued to be the champion wrestler of his neighbourhood; and the story of his midnight adventure took the form of a droll just like the above.

Shortly after Mr. Wood gave the wrestler his ghostly aid, the reverend gentleman had much fiendish annoyance on that account, as will be seen in the sequel to this story.

One may remark that many old folks often compare a droll subject to an old miracle play, though they have but a misty idea of what it was. The other day an elderly man of Newlyn, in speaking of old droll-tellers meeting together and spinning their yarns, said, “It is as good as an old miracle-play to hear them.” On my asking what an old miracle play was, he replied that he couldn’t say exactly, but from what he had heard, he thought it was much the same as an old guise-dance. He wasn’t much out, as “St. George and the Dragon” was the guise-dance he had in view.

THE FEATHERED FIEND.

Ladock men were famous ringers of old; but from a few weeks before their champion’s victory over the demon-wrestler, the fine old bells of their church had been silent because their ropes were quite worn out, and other gearing connected with them required repairs to be used with safety. Shortly after Trevail’s victory, an evil spirit, in the form of a very large bird, with coal-black plumage, and fiery eyes, but of a kind unknown to Ladock folks, was seen perched on the tower for several nights in succession, where it remained for hours jumping from one pinnacle to another, and making an unnatural clamour, which was heard far away. Shortly after it came by day, and even during Divine Service. The pastor and his flock were distracted by its croaking and cawing, as if in derision.

When the clerk, with five or six other elderly men and two women, who formed the choir, quavered through the psalms—which they sung in parts, much in the mode of old “three-man-songs,”—this feathered fiend, just over their heads, on the tower, would utter such infernal noises as to make sad discord of the old men’s music. The clerk seldom used a book, as he knew pretty well, by heart, the three or four psalms they usually sung; but sometimes he would commence with a verse from one, and then give out portions of others; and now his memory was so confused by irritation that one Sunday he concluded by giving,—

“And now may Heaven amend us all, And into bliss us bring!”

Happily the two female singers discovered his mistake as he was going to finish the verse with—

“This was the hunting of the Cheviot: God send us all good ending!”

Every now and then the accursed thing would mimic all sorts of familiar but jarring sounds; sometimes it screeched “like a pig caught in a gate;” then quickly changed its note to imitate the cry of hounds in full chase; or the cackling and scolding of old women. By such noises coming down from the elevated site, many of the congregation were constrained to burst out in roars of laughter, which, like yawning, is very catching. Prim folks, who put great restraint on themselves in order to retain a solemn demeanour, suffered such pains that they had to leave Church and give vent to their pent up feeling.

Mr. Wood was nonplussed; the Evil One was too high up to be reached with his hunting-whip, and the methods by which he had formerly exorcised demons now failed. From this one’s position, he could not comply with all the prescribed formulas, such as enclosing him in a magic circle, &c. The reverend gentleman felt his fame as an exorcist was at stake. He told his people that the accursed thing was no other than a mean mocking devil sent thither by the demon-wrestler to torment him, out of revenge for his aid to their champion, whereby Jackey’s victory and the Evil One’s discomfiture were assured.

The increasing vexation continued for many weeks, until Mr. Wood was struck with an idea which he turned to good account; and which should be recorded for the benefit of others who may ever have to encounter the like difficulties.

One Sunday, after evening service, when the congregation had dispersed—the clerk and sexton waiting in the porch,—the parson came out of the Church sighing, “Oh! for how long is this grevious trial to endure;” and, turning to his clerk, said, “We and the people might as well have stayed at home for all the benefit derived by them from either the service or the sermon this afternoon. I could not help observing that their attention was more given to the horrid noises which reached them from the tower than to my instructions from the pulpit.”

“It’s a very hard tryal for you, to be sure,” replied the clerk, “but, as for me, I’ve more than once had a great mind to smash my bass-viol and rush out of Church; ’tes always hard work for me to keep our singers in time and tune; and now, with this screechan devil on the tower, we are always in confusion, and might as well sing ‘Chevy Chace’ for all the words anybody can hear; et wed try the patience of Job ef he, like me, had a ‘pare’ of singers to lead, and the devel makan such a ‘drilzey’ (irritating noise) over hes head; it wed be wes for am than havan to listen to hes conceited com——”

“Pray thee leave Job and his comforters for the time,” exclaimed Mr. Wood. “The good man, like many another, might well say, ‘Save me from my friends.’ I noticed, too, that many strangers come from a great distance, more and more every Sunday, drawn hither by curiosity. I have tried all authorised means for expelling demons that the position taken by this one admits of; but I find the truth of what has long been said, that, of all devils, those of the mocking kind are the most difficult to subdue; they may be likened unto hairbrained, self-conceited fools amongst mortals, who can only be ruled by the rod, and this fiend keeps too high up to be reached by my whip. Yet sometimes, indeed, when I read to the fiend at the utmost pitch of my voice, he remained so still that I hoped he was being subjected to my will; but the conjuration or incantation ended, he always hopped upon a pinnacle, cocked his tail, danced round, and cried caw, caw, as much as to say it’s all a farce, and I like to hear your voice.”

“Now only to think of es emperance,” murmured the clerk.

“I have heard, too,” continued Mr. Wood, “that some thoughtless youngsters have proposed to try on him the virtues of powder and lead. I am glad to learn, however, that they have been better advised; the result of such temerity would, probably, be something awful for them. I now come to the particular matter I wish to speak with you about.

“During a long pause I had to make in my sermon this afternoon, whilst the plumed devil took his turn, a thought occurred to me which I hoped might be a happy inspiration.”

“Goodness grant et,” cried the impatient clerk; “do ’e tell me what et es, and hear the devil screaman now.”

“You know what is said in Holy Writ respecting little children,” resumed Mr. Wood. “You likewise know that sage old folks have a saying, ‘the Evil One can’t endure the sight of an innocent child,’ and——”

“Aye, verily,” interrupted the clerk; “bless me, sure ’tes a wender I dedn’t think of that before, why old people—who are the only ones that know anything—say a babe in a house es more use to keep evil sperats out of en than a five-pointed star (pentagram) cut on the drussell (door-sill), and any number of hos shoes nailed to the lentran (lintel). Besides, we all know the rash lawyer who summoned the sperat of that unjust stewart, Jan Tregagle, into Court, by sayan, ‘ef Tregagle seed the money paid, may Tregagle appear and declare et.’ By the time the words were well out of hes mouth, the enraged sperat stood before am, sayan,—‘Thee hast found et easy to bring me here, but thee west find et harder to put me away agen;’ and the enraged Tregagle wed ha torn the lawyer lem from lem, ef he hadn’t snatched a little child from a woman’s arms and held et in hes own. Weth that protection he defied the wild sperat—who was jest the same as a devil, from beean weth them so long,—drove am into a corner and pinned am there, while all the other people tore out of Court, for their lives, except the cheeld’s mother and the judge. As a was ’sizes there happened to be many passens in town (Bodmin), and they, on hearan of et, went all together to lay Tregagle. You know what trouble they had nearly all night, and couldn’t quell the sperat till the Rector of Roach came among them and——”

“Ho!” exclaimed the parson, “west thee keep me here all night with thy endless fables about Tregagle, that we have all heard from our childhood. Listen to what I was about to say regarding the means whereby I hope to expel this fiend from Ladock.

“I suppose there are several unbaptised children in the parish, as many women have been in childbed, I know, since last Ladock-tide (the parish feast), but none of their children have been christened.”