The Vast Abyss

“Hadn’t some one better fetch the doctor?” said a fresh voice.

“He’s gone out,” cried another.

“Shot me with a big gun,” yelled Pete again.

“Thank you, yes, thank you,” came now in a voice which made Tom Blount’s heart leap. “I don’t think I am much hurt. Where is my boy Tom?”

“I’m all right, uncle,” cried the boy eagerly, though he felt very far from being so; and he heard a few murmured words of thankfulness.

“Where is Mr Maxted?”

“I am here,” said the Vicar, “not much hurt. But tell me, how are your eyes?”

“Rather dim and misty. But what was it?” said Uncle Richard, rather feebly; “an explosion?”

“Shot me with a big gun – shot me with a big gun.”

“Will some one put a tater in that boy’s ugly mouth,” cried David indignantly. “I tell yer all it was thunder and lightning. I saw one and heard t’other, both sharp together.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Didn’t I always tell you so?” cried a shrill voice; and Tom looked round, to dimly make out Mother Warboys bending over her grandson, who was now sitting on the grass close under the wall, where he had been placed. “I always said it. His punishment’s come at last for all his wicked tricks and evil dealings.”

“And one in hers too,” cried David. “A wicked old sinner! Hold your tongue, will you!”

“Nay, nay, I’ll hold no tongue,” cried Mother Warboys. “He’s a wicked man-witch, and allays doing evil and making charms.”

“Shot me with a big gun, granny.”

“Hold thy tongue, boy. It’s come to him at last – it’s come to him at last. I always telled ye that he was a bad, wicked one. Now he’s punished.”

“Oh dear me! I cannot put up with this,” muttered the Vicar. “David, my good fellow, give me your hand. Thank you – that’s better. I think I can stand now. Oh, yes. That’s right; but I’ve lost my glasses.”

“Here they are, sir,” said a voice, “but they’re all crushed to bits.”

“Then I must do without them, I suppose.”

“An old wicked one, who buys up mills and starves the poor, so that he may go on in his evil ways. I told you all so, but it’s come to him at last.”

“Oh dear me!” ejaculated the Vicar. “Keep my arm, David. Here, you sir, get up.”

“Shot me with a gun – shot me with a gun,” yelled Pete, who had got hold of one form of complaint, and kept to it.

“Silence, sir! It’s all nonsense; no one fired a gun.”

“Yes; shot me, and knocked me off the wall.”

“Is he hurt?” asked the Vicar, as Uncle Richard now sat up.

“Don’t think so, sir,” said one of the village people. “We can’t find nothing the matter with him.”

“I told you so – I told you all so,” continued Mother Warboys, waving her stick.

“And I tell you so,” cried the Vicar angrily. “Go along home, you wicked old she Shimei. How dare you come cursing here when your poor neighbours are in trouble!”

“I – I – I don’t care – I will say it,” cried Mother Warboys.

“You dare to say another word, and you shall have no dole next Sunday,” cried the Vicar angrily.

“I – I don’t care; I say it’s come home to him at last. I always said it would.”

“Yes, you wicked old creature; and in spite of your vanity you are not a prophetess. Take that old woman home,” cried the Vicar fiercely; but no one stirred.

“What, are you all afraid of her?”

“She’ll get cursing and ill-wishing us if we do, sir,” said one of the men present.

“I’ll take her home, sir,” cried David. “Don’t s’pose she’ll hurt me much if she do. Come along, old lady, and you, Pete, take hold of her other arm.”

Pete obeyed, and seemed to forget his injuries, taking Mother Warboys’ other arm, and helping her out of the yard, she saying no more, but shaking her head, and muttering that she “always knowed how it would be.”

By this time Uncle Richard was sufficiently recovered to walk about; and, beckoning Tom to him, he took his arm and went into the workshop, where the silvered piece of speculum lay shattered; and in addition to the windows being broken, the bench was split from end to end, and a table and stools knocked over.

“Look at the speculum, Tom. Is it hurt?”

Tom’s ears were still ringing as he crossed to where they had laid the disc of glass face downwards; and on uncovering it, he found it uninjured, and said so, making his uncle draw a deep breath as if much relieved.

“Now lock up the place, Tom,” he said, “and let’s go indoors. I am too much shaken to say much, so ask Mr Maxted to request the people to go away now, and then you can fasten the gate.”

“Think she’ll tumble down, sir?” said a voice at the door; and they turned to find David back panting and breathless. “Took her home, sir. She kep’ on chuntering all the way, but parson frightened her about the dole, and she never said a cross word. But think the mill ’ll come down?”

“Oh no, David,” said Uncle Richard quietly; “there is no fear. Is that boy much hurt?”

“Him, sir? Tchah! There’s nothing the matter with him. The shock knocked him off the wall, and he lay howling, expecting some one to give him a shilling to put him right. He’d forgotten all about it before he got home, and began to quarrel with his granny.”

“Help to lock up,” said Uncle Richard; and, leaving Tom free to speak to the people, and ask them to disperse, he laid his hand on David’s arm.

Ten minutes later the people were all out of the yard, and hanging about in the lane discussing the thunderbolt, as they called it, that had fallen, some declaring that the worst always came out of a clear sky, while others declared that they’d “never seed thunder and lightning without clouds.”

On the whole, they were rather disappointed that more mischief had not been done. The burning of the mill, for instance, or its crumbling down, would have made the affair more exciting, whereas there were some broken windows to look at, and that was all.

Meanwhile the scientific people had adjourned to the cottage, where warm water and clothes-brushes did a good deal to restore them to their former state, while a cup of tea hurriedly prepared by Mrs Fidler did something toward soothing their shattered nerves.

“But really, sir, I think you ought to let me send over to Buildston for Doctor Ranson.”

“Not for me, Mrs Fidler,” said Uncle Richard. “I’ve been a good deal shaken, and my ears are full of a sharp singing sound, but I’m rapidly coming round. Send for him to see Mr Maxted.”

“Oh dear me, no. I’m very much better,” said the Vicar. “I was very much frightened, and I have a lump on the back of my head, but that is all. You had better send for him, I think, to see Master Tom here.”

“I don’t want any doctor,” exclaimed Tom. “Mrs Fidler could put me right.”