Revenge of an Englishman Read online

  "I'm ready," I called to the back of the shop, in the direction of the two brothers, once I had hidden the two items and filled the trunk back up with the clothes that I had removed a minute before.

  Being content with the work that the two tailors had done for me, I paid the two brothers, giving them a little extra. I then asked them if they could do me one more favour. I told them where the stagecoach that I was going to board would begin its journey and asked if they could help me transport my newly acquired full trunk to the location as it was too heavy for me to carry. They both obliged.

  Within an hour I had set out on the stagecoach and we were on the road. We had left Plymouth behind and it was out of sight. The road we took was flat and the horses trotted at a brisk pace. The sides of the road were lined mostly with grass and overgrown hedges. There was the occasional cottage or store at the side of the road but other than those and the shrubbery there was not much else. Even though it was around midday and the weather was clear and the conditions were perfect for travelling, we were seemingly alone on the road. The road was flat and straight and there was not another carriage or horseback traveller insight.

  The carriage that the stagecoach was using was painted red and was pulled by four horses. The horses were the same height but each was a different colour. They were pulled by the driver who sat on the right-hand side in the driver's box in the front of the carriage. Sitting on his left was the guard whose job it was to protect the travellers from harm, a job that rarely needed to be carried out. The stagecoach was big and square-shaped, and on the top of it there were railings and that is where my trunk and the other passengers' travelling items were fastened to. There was one door that granted us access to inside the carriage and with it was a window that we could open and close as we wished. The seats were positioned at either end of the carriage and they faced each other. The seating of the carriage meant that extra legroom was granted to all of the passengers, but it also meant that we all had to face once another.

  The driver and guard who sat outside the carriage talked throughout the journey. They seemed to laugh and snigger after each sentence. If their accents had not been as strong as they were then I perhaps could have understood what they were talking about. However, I was unable to pick up more than the occasional word. I didn't know if I should find blame with their diction and pronunciation or if I should be at fault for not being savvy to such different accents within England. Regardless of whose fault it was, I did not understand their conversation and struggled to follow it at all.

  I shared the carriage with just two other people. A man who kept his eyes firmly fixed to the ground of the stagecoach and a woman who occasionally glanced around the stagecoach, but mainly focused her attention on the outside world. It was clear that she could understand what the driver and guard were talking about because as the two employees finished their sentences and laughed and grunted, I saw the woman roll her eyes and let out a deep exhale of disdain on numerous occasions.

  The two fellow passengers that I travelled with did not feel like conversing and that suited me perfectly. I did not want to waste time in idle chat. The two passengers looked respectable and like decent people but I doubted they would be able to offer me anything worthwhile in terms of conversation. Instead, I too divided my attention between gazing outside at the open world and studying the different aspects of the stagecoach.

  As I mentioned before, the carriage was painted red but the outside and the inside of it also had some text written on it. On the outside, the text was written in paint along the top of the carriage, just above where the door was. On the inside of the carriage, the text had been written on two well-varnished pieces of wood that had then been nailed to both sides of the inner carriage. The signs gave the same information. They read ‘Johnson and sons. Bath.’. The first part of the text was a reference to the business that owned the carriage and ran the private stagecoach. The second part of the text referred to the route that the carriage took.

  From time to time, I found myself trying to stand up or change my sitting position. It was a long journey and it had been a long time since I had to sit down in the same spot for any considerable length of time. To help distract my mind from the growing discomfort I was beginning to feel, I tried to think about the future and what my immediate and not so immediate plans were going to be. I thought about Bath, my family and my plans for revenge.

  Going to Bath was a setback that I was not first pleased with, but now after a considerable amount of time had passed I saw some benefits associated with stopping at Bath on my journey to London. After all, it was in Bath where I was first introduced to Edward and Charles by James. We dined in many restaurants and made each others' acquaintances along the small and narrow cobbled streets in the centre of the city. I also knew that we all had family members who lived in Bath, because of the lodgings we took that summer when we met. So by visiting Bath this would allow me to check up on the family members of the three wrongdoers and get information about their whereabouts. It would also allow me to see my own family, my dear old aunt, and let her know that I was alive and well. I'm sure that to the world and my loved ones, I must have been considered well and truly dead.

  As I adjusted my sitting position in the carriage once more I wondered if God had a plan or a part to play in my going to Bath first and not directly to London. I pondered over the idea that he was watching me and directing my path. If he was responsible for everything, if he was all-powerful and all-knowing then I concluded that when the day of my death came, and I was finally brought to the Gates of Heaven to stand before Saint Peter and be judged whether or not I would be worthy of the gift of everlasting life, I expected God to be waiting at the gates for me to ask for my forgiveness for what I had to endure. No person should ever have to suffer as I suffered. No God should put their faithful servant through such horrible experiences that I had to bear during my captivity.

  It was evening time when we reached the end of the first stage on our journey to Bath. The driver stopped the carriage and then he and the guard helped their three passengers get out of the carriage. I thanked them as they held the door open for me and bowed as I got out of the carriage. I was so relieved to stretch my legs. The place where we stopped was a stagecoach station where the horses and staff of our stagecoach would be replaced. We were half-way to Bath so both the humans and the animals needed to rest and replenish their strength. Fresh horses and two new people would replace the old ones. My fellow passengers walked away from the carriage in search of food or a bathroom or somewhere to freshen up, but I stayed and watched the four beautiful horses being untied from the carriage of the stagecoach by a young stable-boy and I watched the horses as they were then led around the back of the station towards the stables.

  The station had very little in the form of entertainment for its users on their journeys. There were some general stores, a small establishment to buy food and indeed a bathroom, but other than that it was a very bare and isolated place. There were a few houses that belonged to both the staff of the station and the small businesses that were planted beside it. In my opinion, the station had nothing that would make a visitor want to return to the place. The smell of the horse-manure from the stable was strong too, it was almost overwhelming.

  "We'll just be another few minutes now, sir," a man said to me.

  It was a man who I had never seen before. He walked out of the station and over towards where I was standing and watching the carriage and the releasing of the horses. By his attire, I assumed he was the replacement driver for the second stage of the journey.

  "That's fine," I politely replied.

  "Are you sure you don't want some food or anything before the stagecoach sets off? We'll be driving all through the night," he continued at me.

  "No, I do not require anything, although, I am thankful for the opportunity to stretch my legs. They had gotten stiff in the carriage from travelling for so long and sitting in the same spot for so long."

/>   "Fine," the man said and walked away from me. He went back to the station.

  As the man spoke to me his face and tone both seemed a little agitated. My refusal to eat or do anything at the station had visibly changed his mood. It was either my refusal to eat food or my comment about my legs being stiff from the stagecoach that had caused him some minor offense. Initially, I thought that he was being childish and irrational, but upon further reflection, I began to consider that this was his livelihood. The establishments that surrounded the station were probably owned by him or family members or well-known neighbours and they needed business to make a living and survive. Likewise, his profession was a stagecoach driver and I had complained about the comfort and duration of the typical journeys that he would travel daily. I insulted his profession and refused to contribute to his community. I could see why his mood could have changed in such a manner. There were many people in London that I knew who were masters at insulting others and taking insults, and they wore masks to hide their true thoughts and feelings, and they did it well. This replacement driver was not like the London people I knew. He wore his heart on his sleeve and he felt insulted and stung by my words, and his abrupt reply and walking away from me were probably both the results of my words to him, even though I meant no harm in them.

  Feeling guilty about hurting the man's feelings and insulting his livelihood and those around him, I soon followed him into the station. He was in conversation with both the driver and guard that had been responsible for getting me and the other two passengers to this station from Plymouth. The three of them, deep in conversation, turned to me as I entered through the station door and looked at me. They became silent and stared at me as if confused by my presence.

  "Sorry, sir, I have changed my mind. I think some food and drink would be good nourishment for the long night of travelling that is ahead of us," I said to the man I had before spoken with and bowed my head a little.

  "That is a good idea, dear sir,” the man’s face immediately perked up. “The house two doors on the right from here, it has an abundance of delicious food and drink. Go there, dear sir, and you will think that you are in Heaven. You have my word." He responded to me. I thanked him and left the station in pursuit of the house.

  I purchased food from a woman in the food establishment which truly was a house with only a painted sign on the front of the building. She put the items in a wicker basket and put a cloth over the top of the basket to keep insects and other intruders away from the food. The basket contained a selection of sandwiches some bread and a few small cakes. The woman didn't charge me a lot of money but asked me that when I had finished the contents of the basket if I could leave it in the stagecoach or give it to the driver so that it could be returned to her and used again. I gave the woman my word and said that I would do as she requested. She thanked me and I thanked her. I complimented the smell of the food and how everything looked so delicious, trying to be overly polite and make a good impression to make-up for the former bluntness with which I spoke to the replacement driver and caused him visible offense. Thankfully, the more I complimented her, the happier she became. I felt happy inside knowing that I could warm someone's day with my words.

  After the basket was prepared and I thanked the woman and paid her and left the woman's house, I returned to the stagecoach to find that four new horses had been attached to the front of the carriage and the two new replacement people were waiting outside of the carriage ready to depart. My two fellow passengers were already inside the carriage. It seemed like everyone was waiting for me. I stepped briskly and apologised for any delay I had caused. Of the two new men who would replace the old guard and driver, the man who I had unintentionally offended earlier was present and it became clear that he would be the new driver as I had first suspected. Before stepping into the carriage I thanked him for his advice and told him that he was right, the food looked delicious and smelled great. I told him that I couldn't wait to eat the contents within the wicker basket. The man smiled a big grin and said that it was his wife who had prepared the contents within the basket.

  "She rises early every morning and loves cooking and making food. The heart of an angel that one has, and she is great with the children, too. She teaches them writing and reading and all that," the man said as I stepped into the carriage and he closed the door behind me.

  The stagecoach drove through the rest of the evening and into the night. Spring had turned to summer and now the sun did not set until very late. I could still see the last remnants of the summer sun in the sky until ten o'clock that night. When the day finally gave way to the night, the sky was a carpet of colours with a full bright moon in the middle and decorative stars scattered all over the night sky. The temperature dropped significantly once the sun had descended and the two fellow passengers that I travelled alongside moved their jackets and respective clothing to cover the majority of their faces to shelter them from the cold. Had my travelling trunk been beside me and not stored on the roof of the carriage, then I would have copied my fellow passengers and would have taken a piece of clothing out to protect my face.

  The new driver and guard talked excessively through much of the ride, the driver occasionally whistling a happy tune when the conversation ran out. I took delight in his seemingly good mood and hoped that I was in some way responsible for his merriment. On occasion, the driver turned around to inspect his passengers, though I think he was particularly keen to see if I had eaten much of the contents of the wicker basket. Each time he turned around I felt compelled to compliment the taste of the contents within the basket despite not having tasted anything yet or even removing the cloth cover from the top of the basket.

  "You trust me, good sir. You take some of my wife's delicious food and then you'll dream a good dream tonight," he shouted from the front of the carriage to me.

  The weather was calm except for a cold wind that blew every so often. The wind added to the coldness of the night and I had to cross my hands across my chest and curl up where I sat to try and keep myself warm. While I was in the curled up position like a hedgehog or sleeping puppy, I nodded off into sleep. Despite the driver's words, I didn't dream at all that night, or if I did I immediately forgot it.

  Chapter 7 - The Ghost

  I'm not sure what it was that woke me up or if I had woken up naturally on my own accord, but when I awoke the scene looked direful. The two passengers that I sat with inside the stagecoach were looking around frantically trying to spot something outside of the carriage. Their eyes were wide with what I suspected to be fear. Likewise, the joyful driver and talkative guard were now seated in absolute silence. The guard constantly glanced around the surroundings to see if he could spot something. Not a word was spoken for a long time and the silence was deafening. Although I had just awoken, I felt panic-stricken, but I did not know why.

  Three lanterns were the only sources of light we had on our night journey other than the stars and the moon. Two of the lanterns were placed at the front of the stagecoach, beside the driver and guard so that they could see. The third was placed at the rear of the stagecoach so that we could see carriages and horses that were approaching from behind. The dim light that was emitted from these lanterns did not show any wild animals or unwanted company in our presence. But still, the four people who I shared this journey with were all visibly uncomfortable and worried.

  As the four horses that pulled the carriage continued to trot, I heard no sound except for their hooves hitting the ground. The road that we were on was a little visible to me in each direction. In the long and narrow road in front of us, there was nothing, the same as the rear. On either side of the road, there was shrubbery and some overgrown grass, but it was nothing more than a home to crickets and insects. There would be no wild animals lurking in the greenery that would catch us off-guard and unprepared.

  "I think we're through the worst of it now. Whether the rumours were true or not, there doesn't seem to be any danger here," the guard said to th
e driver after another thirty minutes of silence and anxiousness had elapsed.

  "Keep a steady hand and keep your voice down. A few more miles and then we will be safe," the driver responded in a hushed tone.

  It was when the driver responded to the guard that my eyes first wandered to the hands of the guard. The driver's words made me confused but upon inspecting the guard's hands I realised what it was the driver was referring to. A musket with a long barrel sat across the guard's legs as he scoped the area checking for any unwanted signs. The two workers of the stagecoach then remained vigilant and silent after the brief exchange had concluded. The guard kept a firm grip on his musket and continued staring around the area. Once more the trots of the horses and there exhales and neighs were the only sound that filled the night.

  "Please, tell me. What is the matter? Where are we?" I quietly asked one of the fellow passengers in the stagecoach.