Читать книгу The Collected Novels - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 45

I, Crank-Cuffin, swear to be

True to this fraternity;

That I will in all obey

Rule and order of the lay.

Never blow the gab, or squeak;

Never snitch to bum or beak;

But religiously maintain

Authority of those who reign

Over Stop-Hole Abbey Green,

Be they tawny king, or queen.

In their cause alone will fight;

Think what they think, wrong or right;

Serve them truly, and no other,

And be faithful to my brother;

Suffer none, from far or near,

With their rights to interfere;

No strange Abram, ruffler crack,

Hooker of another pack,

Rogue or rascal, frater, maunderer,

Irish toyle, or other wanderer;

No dimber damber, angler, dancer,

Prig of cackler, prig of prancer;

No swigman, swaddler, clapperdudgeon;

Cadge-gloak, curtal, or curmudgeon;

No whip-jack, palliard, patrico;

No jarkman, be he high or low;

No dummerar, or romany;

No member of “the Family;" No ballad-basket, bouncing buffer, Nor any other, will I suffer; But stall-off now and for ever, All outliers whatsoever: And as I keep to the foregone, So may help me Salamon!36

“So help me Salamon!” repeated Turpin, with emphasis.

“Zoroaster,” said the patrico to the upright man, “do thy part of this ceremonial.”

Zoroaster obeyed; and, taking Excalibur from the knight of Malta, bestowed a hearty thwack with the blade upon the shoulders of the kneeling highwayman, assisting him afterwards to arise.

The inauguration was complete.

“Well,” exclaimed Dick, “I’m glad it’s all over. My leg feels a little stiffish. I’m not much given to kneeling. I must dance it off;” saying which, he began to shuffle upon the boards. “I tell you what,” continued he, “most reverend patrico, that same ‘salmon’ of yours has a cursed long tail. I could scarce swallow it all, and it’s strange if it don’t give me an indigestion. As to you, sage Zory, from the dexterity with which you flourish your sword, I should say you had practised at court. His majesty could scarce do the thing better, when, slapping some fat alderman upon the shoulder, he bids him arise Sir Richard. And now, pals,” added he, glancing round, “as I am one of you, let’s have a booze together ere I depart, for I don’t think my stay will be long in the land of Egypt.”

This suggestion of Turpin was so entirely consonant to the wishes of the assemblage, that it met with universal approbation; and upon a sign from Zoroaster, some of his followers departed in search of supplies for the carousal. Zoroaster leaped from the table, and his example was followed by Turpin, and more leisurely by the patrico.

It was rather early in the day for a drinking bout. But the Canting Crew were not remarkably particular. The chairs were removed, and the jingling of glasses announced the arrival of the preliminaries of the matutine symposion. Poles, canvas, and cords were next brought; and in almost as short a space of time as one scene is substituted for another in a theatrical representation, a tent was erected. Benches, stools, and chairs appeared with equal celerity, and the interior soon presented an appearance like that of a booth at a fair. A keg of brandy was broached, and the health of the new brother quaffed in brimmers.

Our highwayman returned thanks. Zoroaster was in the chair, the knight of Malta acting as croupier. A second toast was proposed — the tawny queen. This was drunk with a like enthusiasm, and with a like allowance of the potent spirit; but as bumpers of brandy are not to be repeated with impunity, it became evident to the president of the board that he must not repeat his toasts quite so expeditiously. To create a temporary diversion, therefore, he called for a song.

The dulcet notes of the fiddle now broke through the clamor; and, in answer to the call, Jerry Juniper volunteered the following: