Complete Works of Bram Stoker (590 page)

However, curiosity was exerted to such an extraordinary pitch that it overcame the fear of danger, in search of the horrible; for they believed that if there were any one in the ruins he must be a vampyre, of course, and they were somewhat cautious in going near such a creature, lest in so doing they should meet with some accident, and become vampyres too.

This was a dreadful reflection, and one that every now and then impressed itself upon the individuals composing the mob; but at the same time any new impulse, or a shout, and they immediately became insensible to all fear; the mere impulse is the dominant one, and then all is forgotten.

The scene was an impressive one; the beautiful house and grounds looked desolate and drear; many of the trees were stripped and broken down, and many scorched and burned, while the gardens and flower beds, the delight of the Bannerworth family, were rudely trodden under foot by the rabble, and all those little beauties so much admired and tended by the inhabitants, were now utterly destroyed, and in such a state that their site could not even be detected by the former owners.

It was a sad sight to see such a sacrilege committed,  —  such violence done to private feelings, as to have all these places thrown open to the scrutiny of the brutal and vulgar, who are incapable of appreciating or understanding the pleasures of a refined taste.

The ruins presented a remarkable contrast to what the place had been but a very short time before; and now the scene of desolation was complete, there was no one spot in which the most wretched could find shelter.

To be sure, under the lee of some broken and crumbling wall, that tottered, rather than stood, a huddled wretch might have found shelter from the wind, but it would have been at the risk of his life, and not there complete.

The mob became quiet for some moments, but was not so long; indeed, a mob of people,  —  which is, in fact, always composed of the most disorderly characters to be found in a place, is not exactly the assembly that is most calculated for quietness; somebody gave a shout, and then somebody else shouted, and the one wide throat of the whole concourse was opened, and sent forth a mighty yell.

After this exhibition of power, they began to run about like mad,  —  traverse the grounds from one end to the other, and then the ruins were in progress of being explored.

This was a tender affair, and had to be done with some care and caution by those who were so engaged; and they walked over crumbling and decayed masses.

In one or two places, they saw what appeared to be large holes, into which the building materials had been sunk, by their own weight, through the flooring, that seemed as roofs to some cellars or dungeons.

Seeing this, they knew not how soon some other part might sink in, and carry their precious bodies down with the mass of rubbish; this gave an interest to the scene,  —  a little danger is a sort of salt to an adventure, and enables those who have taken part in it to talk of their exploits, and of their dangers, which is pleasant to do, and to hear in the ale-house, and by the inglenook in the winter.

However, when a few had gone some distance, others followed, when they saw them enter the place in safety: and at length the whole ruins were covered with living men, and not a few women, who seemed necessary to make up the elements of mischief in this case.

There were some shouting and hallooing from one to the other as they hurried about the ruins.

At length they had explored the ruins nearly all over, when one man, who had stood a few minutes upon a spot, gazing intently upon something, suddenly exclaimed,  — 

“Hilloa! hurrah! here we are, altogether,  —  come on,  —  I’ve found him,  —  I’ve found  —  recollect it’s me, and nobody else has found,  —  hurrah!”

Then, with a wild kind of frenzy, he threw his hat up into the air, as if to attract attention, and call others round him, to see what it was he had found.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” exclaimed one who came up to him, and who had been close at hand.

“The matter? why, I’ve found him; that’s the matter, old man,” replied the first.

“What, a whale?

“No, a wampyre; the blessed wampyre! there he is,  —  don’t you see him under them ere bricks?”

“Oh, that’s not him; he got away.”

“I don’t care,” replied the other, “who got away, or who didn’t; I know this much, that he’s a wampyre,  —  he wouldn’t be there if he warn’t.”

This was an unanswerable argument, and nobody could deny it; consequently, there was a cessation of talk, and the people then came up, as the two first were looking at the body.

“Whose is it?” inquired a dozen voices.

“Not Sir Francis Varney’s!” said the second speaker; the clothes are not his  —  ”

“No, no; not Sir Francis’s”

“But I tell you what, mates,” said the first speaker; “that if it isn’t Sir Francis Varney’s, it is somebody else’s as bad. I dare say, now, he’s a wictim.”

“A what!”

“A wictim to the wampyre; and, if he sees the blessed moonlight, he will be a wampyre hisself, and so shall we be, too, if he puts his teeth into us.”

“So we shall,  —  so we shall,” said the mob, and their flesh begin to run cold, and there was a feeling of horror creeping over the whole body of persons within hearing.

“I tell you what it is; our only plan will be to get him out of the ruins, then, remarked another.

“What!” said one; “who’s going to handle such cattle? if you’ve a sore about you, and his blood touches you, who’s to say you won’t be a vampyre, too!”

“No, no you won’t,” said an old woman.

“I won’t try,” was the happy rejoinder; “I ain’t a-going to carry a wampyre on my two legs home to my wife and small family of seven children, and another a-coming.”

There was a pause for a few moments, and then one man more adventurous than the rest, exclaimed,  — 

“Well, vampyre, or no vampyre, his dead body can harm no one; so here goes to get it out, help me who will; once have it out, and then we can prevent any evil, by burning it, and thus destroying the whole body.

“Hurrah!” shouted three or four more, as they jumped down into the hole formed by the falling in of the materials which had crushed Marchdale to death, for it was his body they had discovered.

They immediately set to work to displace such of the materials as lay on the body, and then, having cleared it of all superincumbent rubbish, they proceeded to lift it up, but found that it had got entangled, as they called it, with some chains: with some trouble they got them off, and the body was lifted out to a higher spot.

“Now, what’s to be done?” inquired one.

“Burn it,” said another.

“Hurrah!” shouted a female voice; “we’ve got the wampyre! run a stake through his body, and then place him upon some dry wood,  —  there’s plenty to be had about here, I am sure,  —  and then burn him to a cinder.”

“That’s right, old woman,  —  that’s right,” said a man; “nothing better: the devil must be in him if he come to life after that, I should say.”

There might be something in that, and the mob shouted its approbation, as it was sure to do as anything stupid or senseless, and the proposal might be said to have been carried by acclamation, and it required only the execution.

This was soon done. There were plenty of laths and rafters, and the adjoining wood furnished an abundant supply of dry sticks, so there was no want of fuel.

There was a loud shout as each accession of sticks took place, and, as each individual threw his bundle into the heap, each man felt all the self-devotion to the task as the Scottish chieftain who sacrificed himself and seven sons in the battle for his superior; and, when one son was cut down, the man filled up his place with the exclamation,  —  ”Another for Hector,” until he himself fell as the last of his race.

Soon now the heap became prodigious, and it required an effort to get the mangled corpse upon this funeral bier; but it was then a shout from the mob that rent the air announced, both the fact and their satisfaction.

The next thing to be done was to light the pile  —  this was no easy task; but like all others, it was accomplished, and the dead body of the vampyre’s victim was thrown on to prevent that becoming a vampyre too, in its turn.

“There, boys,” said one, “he’ll not see the moonlight, that’s certain, and the sooner we put a light to this the better; for it may be, the soldiers will be down upon us before we know anything of it; so now, who’s got a light?”

This was a question that required a deal of searching; but, at length one was found by one of the mob coming forward, and after drawing his pipe vigorously for some moments, he collected some scraps of paper upon which he emptied the contents of the pipe, with the hope they would take fire.

In this, however, he was doomed to disappointment; for it produced nothing but a deal of smoke, and the paper burned without producing any flame.

This act of disinterestedness, however was not without its due consequences, for there were several who had pipes, and, fired with the hope of emulating the first projector of the scheme for raising the flame, they joined together, and potting the contents of their pipes together on some paper, straw, and chips, they produced, after some little trouble, a flame.

Then there was a shout, and the burning mass was then placed in a favourable position nearer the pile of materials collected for burning, and then, in a few moments, it began to take light; one piece communicated the fire to another, until the whole was in a blaze.

When the first flame fairly reached the top, a loud and tremendous shout arose from the mob, and the very welkin re-echoed with its fulness.

Then the forked flames rushed through the wood, and hissed and crackled as they flew, throwing up huge masses of black smoke, and casting a peculiar reflection around. Not a sound was heard save the hissing and roaring of the flames, which seemed like the approaching of a furious whirlwind.

At length there was nothing to be seen but the blackened mass; it was enveloped in one huge flame, that threw out a great heat, so much so, that those nearest to it felt induced to retire from before it.

“I reckon,” said one, “that he’s pretty well done by this time  —  he’s had a warm berth of it up there.”

“Yes,” said another, “farmer Walkings’s sheep he roasted whole at last harvest-home hadn’t such a fire as this, I’ll warrant; there’s no such fire in the county  —  why, it would prevent a frost, I do believe it would.”

“So it would, neighbour,” answered another.

“Yes,” replied a third, “but you’d want such a one corner of each field though.”

There was much talk and joking going on among the men who stood around, in the midst of which, however, they were disturbed by a loud shout, and upon looking in the quarter whence it came, they saw stealing from among the ruins, the form of a man.

He was a strange, odd looking man, and at the time it was very doubtful among the mob as to whom it was  —  nobody could tell, and more than one looked at the burning pile, and then at the man who seemed to be so mysteriously present, as if they almost imagined that the body had got away.

“Who is it?” exclaimed one.

“Danged if I knows,” said another, looking very hard, and very white at the same time;  —  ”I hope it ain’t the chap what we’ve burned here jist now.”

“No,” said the female, “that you may be sure of, for he’s had a stake through his body, and as you said, he can never get over that, for as the stake is consumed, so are his vitals, and that’s a sure sign he’s done for.”

“Yes, yes, she’s right  —  a vampyre may live upon blood, but cannot do without his inside.”

This was so obvious to them all, that it was at once conceded, and a general impression pervaded the mob that it might be Sir Francis Varney: a shout ensued.

“Hurrah!  —  After him  —  there’s a vampyre  —  there he goes!  —  after him  —  catch him  —  burn him!”

And a variety of other exclamations were uttered, at the same time; the victim of popular wrath seemed to be aware that he was now discovered, and made off with all possible expedition, towards some wood.

Away went the mob in pursuit, hooting and hallooing like demons, and denouncing the unfortunate being with all the terrors that could be imagined, and which naturally added greater speed to the unfortunate man.

However, some among the mob, seeing that there was every probability of the stranger’s escaping at a mere match of speed, brought a little cunning to bear upon matter, and took a circuit round, and thus intercepted him.

This was not accomplished without a desperate effort, and by the best runners, who thus reached the spot he made for, before he could get there.

When the stranger saw himself thus intercepted, he endeavoured to fly in a different direction; but was soon secured by the mob, who made somewhat free with his person, and commenced knocking him about.

“Have mercy on me,” said the stranger. “What do you want? I am not rich; but take all I have.”

“What do you do here?” inquired twenty voices. “Come, tell us that  —  what do you do here, and who are you?”

“A stranger, quite a stranger to these parts.”

“Oh, yes! he’s a stranger; but that’s all the worse for him  —  he’s a vampyre  —  there’s no doubt about that.”

“Good God,” said the man, “I am a living and breathing man like yourselves. I have done no wrong, and injured no man  —  be merciful unto me; I intend no harm.”

“Of course not; send him to the fire  —  take him back to the ruins  —  to the fire.”

“Ay, and run a stake through his body, and then he’s safe for life. I am sure he has something to do with the vampyre; and who knows, if he ain’t a vampyre, how soon he may become one?”

“Ah! that’s very true; bring him back to the fire, and we’ll try the effects of the fire upon his constitution.”

“I tell you what, neighbour, it’s my opinion, that as one fool makes many, so one vampyre makes many.”

“So it does, so it does; there’s much truth and reason in that neighbour; I am decidedly of that opinion, too.”

“Come along then,” cried the mob, cuffing and pulling the unfortunate stranger with them.