Читать книгу Old Convict Times to Gold Digging Days - William Derricourt - Страница 8

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My master that night declared that his son would fight any lad of his weight and age in the town. The challenge was taken up, a match made, and on the next day it was agreed that the fight should come off in The Leisures. Accordingly they met, and I, being always forward in such affairs, acted as bottle-holder for my master's son. The battle was a desperate and determined one; but after it had lasted a good time, an unlucky blow from my champion stretched the other lad dead. His body was at once carried off by his party, and we went home. Soon after the old constable came, and, in his usual quiet way told young Butler he was wanted, and would have to go with him. As they were leaving the house I came in with a hod of coals, when the old constable said to me: "Ah, Will! you'll have to go too. I'll come for you to-morrow."

I thought to myself, "you may come for me, but I fancy you won't find me." Having once had a taste of Stafford Gaol, and with the horrible feeling of the lash still fresh in any memory, I determined to turn my back on Darliston. I did not see the place again for fifty years.

The day after the fight saw me on my way to Birmingham, with my little belongings done up in a bundle. Without stopping in Birmingham I stepped out along the Worcester-road till I arrived at Sally Oake Bridge, crossing the canal running between Worcester and King's Heath. On the bridge stood a young girl of about 15, carrying an infant in her arms and crying piteously. I questioned her and she told me that her parents had turned her out of doors with the child, that she had nowhere to go, and had come to the canal to drown herself and her baby. She said that if it were not for the baby she could get a place as servant in Birmingham. As it was she knew not what to do. I did all I could to console her, and told her to come away from the water, as the very look of it made me shudder. Then I trusted her with my secret that I was in trouble myself, being a runaway apprentice on my way home by King's Heath. I persuaded her to come with me, and we would try what could be done. She consented, and off we went, I carrying the child, and she my bundle. Towards night we came to a sort of cowshed. The night was bitterly cold, so we went in for shelter. The child became peevish and restless, and we were without food of any sort. I could milk, and proposed to milk a cow that was tied up to a stall, but had some difficulty about finding something to serve instead of a pail. At last I hit upon the idea of using my boot. I pulled it off and wiped it as clean as I could, and then filled it with milk and drank the first draught myself. The girl then had a drink, and we had a bootful for the baby. We then made holes in the straw for beds, and were soon sound asleep.

In the morning we made for my home, as I had great hopes of getting my mother, who was a good kind woman, to take charge of the child, at least for a time. Then I remembered a Mrs. Anson, the wife of a tailor, who lived close to my mother. Mrs. Anson was without family, and had often expressed a strong desire to find and adopt a child. Acting on this idea, I proposed to the girl to go at night to Mrs. Anson's house, saying I would find some way of giving up the child. Accordingly, about dusk we crept into the shrubbery and lay concealed under the bushes. I after a time took the child, and carrying it to the gate, pinched it and bolted. The child screamed lustily. Watching from behind a thick bush we presently saw the gate open and Mrs. Anson appear. She picked up the baby, and, after fondling and caressing it with an appearance of perfect delight, carried it into the house.

Seeing the happy result of our scheme, the girl and I hurried off, till nearing my mother's I bade my companion wait. I let her into the shop where my father used to work, and put her in the loft above it. Afterward I stole a loaf from my mother's cupboard and a quantity of lard. I gave this to the occupant of the loft, and told her in the morning to make straight for Birmingham. I never saw her or the child again. I heard, however, of them through Mrs. Anson. That lady had a female friend, the owner of a large factory in, I think, Great Charles-street, who was very much struck with the little waif that I had left outside the gate. The factory owner begged to be allowed to take care of the foundling alternately with Mrs. Anson, and told her servant that during the time the baby was in the house she (the servant) must act as nursemaid. The girl was my old friend who had shared the milk with me in the cowshed. She was overjoyed at thus being called upon to again care for the infant that she thought she had lost.