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CHAPTER XXI

The Expedition.

IT WAS A CHEERLESS MORNING WHEN THEY GOT INTO THE STREET, blowing and raining hard, and the clouds looking dull and stormy. The night had been very wet large pools of water had collected in the road, and the kennels were overflowing. There was a faint glimmering of the coming day in the sky but it rather aggravated than relieved the gloom of the scene, the sombre light only serving to pale that which the street lamps afforded, without shedding any warmer or brighter tints upon the wet housetops and dreary streets. There appeared to be nobody stirring in that quarter of the town the windows of the houses were all closely shut, and the streets through which they passed were noiseless and empty.

By the time they had turned into the Bethnal Green Road, the day had fairly begun to break. Many of the lamps were already extinguished a few country wagons were slowly toiling on towards London now and then a stage-coach, covered with mud, rattled briskly by, the driver bestowing, as be passed, an admonitory lash upon the heavy wagoner who, by keeping on the wrong side of the road, had endangered his arriving at the office a quarter of a minute after his time. The public-houses, with gaslights burning inside, were already open. By degrees, other shops began to be unclosed, and a few scattered people were met with. Then came straggling groups of labourers going to their work then, men and women with fish-baskets on their head, donkey-carts laden with vegetables, chaise-carts filled with live-stock or whole carcasses of meat, milk-women with pails—an unbroken concourse of people, trudging out with various supplies to the eastern suburbs of the town. As they approached the City, the noise and traffic gradually increased when they threaded the streets between Shoreditch and Smithfield, it had swelled into a roar of sound and bustle. It was as light as it was likely to be till night came on again, and the busy morning of half the London population had begun.

Turning down Sun Street and Crown Street, and crossing Finsbury Square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chiswell Street, into Barbican thence into Long Lane, and so into Smithfield, from which latter place arose a tumult of discordant sounds that filled Oliver Twist with amazement.

It was market-morning. The ground was covered, nearly ankle-deep, with filth and mire a thick steam, perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary pens as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep tied up to posts by the gutter side were long lines of beasts and oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a , mass the whistling of drovers, the barking of dogs, the bellowing and plunging of oxen, the bleating of sheep, the grunting and squeaking of pigs, the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides the ringing of bells and roar of voices that issued from every public-house the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping, and yelling the hideous and discordant din that resounded from every comer of the market and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng, rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite confounded the senses.

Mr. Sikes, dragging Oliver after him, elbowed his way through the thickest of the crowd, and bestowed very little attention on the numerous sights and sounds which so astonished the boy. He nodded twice or thrice to a passing friend and, resisting as many invitations to take a morning dram, pressed steadily onward until they were clear of the turmoil and had made their way through Hosier Lane into Holborn.

“Now, young un! said Sikes, looking up at the clock of St. Andrews Church, “hard upon seven! you must step out. Come, dont lag behind already, Lazy-legs!

Mr. Sikes accompanied this speech with a jerk at his little companions wrist Oliver, quickening his pace into a kind of trot, between a fast walk and a run, kept up with the rapid strides of the housebreaker as well as he could,

They held their course at this rate until they had passed Hyde Park comer and were on their way to Kensington, when Sikes relaxed his pace, until an empty cart which was at some little distance behind, came up. Seeing “Hounslow written on it, he asked the driver with as much civility as he could assume, if he would give them a lift as far as Isleworth.

“Jump up, said the man. “Is that your boy?

“Yes hes my boy, replied Sikes, looking hard at Oliver, - and putting his hand abstractedly into the pocket where the pistol was.

“Your father walks rather too quickly for you, dont he, my man? inquired the driver, seeing that Oliver was out of breath.

“Not a bit of it, replied Sikes, interposing. “Hes used to it. Here, take hold of my hand, Ned. In with you!

Thus addressing Oliver, he helped him into the cart and the driver, pointing to a heap of sacks, told him to lie down there and rest himself.

As they passed the different milestones Oliver wondered, more and more, where his companion meant to take him. Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Kew Bridge, Brentford, were all passed and yet they went on as steadily as if they had only just begun their journey. At length they came to a public-house called the Coach and Horses, a little way beyond which another road appeared to turn off. And here the cart stopped.

Sikes dismounted with great precipitation, holding Oliver by the hand all the while, and lifting him down directly, bestowed a furious look upon him and rapped the side-pocket with his fist in a significant manner.

“Good-bye, boy, said the man.

“Hes sulky, replied Sikes, giving him a shake “hes sulky. A young dog! Dont mind him.

“Not I! rejoined the other, getting into his cart. “Its a fine day, after all. And he drove away.

Sikes waited until he had fairly gone and then, telling Oliver he might look about him if he wanted, once again led him onward on his journey.

They turned round to the left, a short way past the public-house, and then, taking a right-hand road, walked on for a long time, passing many large gardens and gentlemens houses on both sides of the way, and stopping for nothing but a little beer until they reached a town. Here, against the wall of a house, Oliver saw written up in pretty large letters, “Hampton. They lingered about, in the fields, for some hours. At length they came back into the town and, turning into an old public-house with a defaced signboard, ordered some dinner by the kitchen fire.

The kitchen was an old, low-roofed room with a great beam across the middle of the ceiling, and benches, with high backs to them, by the fire, on which were seated several rough men in smock-frocks, drinking and smoking. They took no notice of Oliver, and very little of Sikes and, as Sikes took very little notice of them, he and his young comrade sat in a corner by themselves, without being much troubled by their company.

They had some cold meat for dinner, and sat so long after it, while Mr. Sikes indulged himself with three or four pipes, that Oliver began to feel quite certain they were not going any further. Being much tired with the walk, and getting up so early, he dozed a little at first then, quite overpowered by fatigue and the fumes of the tobacco, fell asleep.

It was quite dark when he was awakened by a push from Sikes. Rousing himself sufficiently to sit up and look about him, he found that worthy in close fellowship and communication with a labouring man, over a pint of ale.

“So, youre going on to Lower Halliford, are you? inquired Sikes.

“Yes, I am, replied the man, who seemed a little the worse—or better, as the case might be—for drinking “and not slow about it neither. My horse hasnt got a load behind him going back, as he had coming up in the mornin and he wont be long a-doing of it. Heres luck to him! Ecod! hes a good un!

“Could you give my boy and me a lift as far as there? demanded Sikes, pushing the ale towards his new friend.

“If youre going directly, I can, replied the man, looking out of the pot. “Are you going to Halliford?

“Going on to Shepperton, replied Sikes.

“Im your man, as far I go, replied the other. “Is all paid, Becky?

“Yes, the other gentlemans paid, replied the girl.

“I say! said the man, with tipsy gravity “that wont do, you know.

“Why not? rejoined Sikes. “Youre a-going to accommodate us, and wots to prevent my standing treat for a pint or so, in return?

The stranger reflected upon this argument, with a very profound face having done so, he seized Sikes by the hand and declared he was a real good fellow. To which Mr. Sikes replied he was joking, as, if he had been sober, there would have been strong reason to suppose he was.

After the exchange of a few more compliments, they bade the company good night, and went out, the girl gathering up the pots and glasses as they did so, and lounging out to the door, with her hands full, to see the party start.

The horse, whose health had been drunk in his absence, was standing outside, ready harnessed to the cart. Oliver and Sikes got in without any further ceremony and the man to whom he belonged, having lingered for a minute or two “to bear him up, and to defy the hostler and the world to produce his equal, mounted also. Then the hostler was told to give the horse his head and, his head being given him, he made a very unpleasant use of it, tossing it into the air with great disdain, and running into the parlour windows over the way after performing those feats, and supporting himself for a short time on his hind-legs, he started off at a great speed, and rattled out of the town right gallantly.

The night was very dark. A damp mist rose from the river, and the marshy ground about, and spread itself over the dreary fields. It was piercing cold, too all was gloomy and black. Not a word was spoken, for the driver had grown sleepy and Sikes was in no mood to lead him into conversation. Oliver sat huddled together in a corner of the cart, bewildered with alarm and apprehension, and figuring strange objects in the gaunt trees, whose branches waved grimly to and fro as if in some fantastic joy at the desolation of the scene.

As they passed Sunbury Church, the clock struck seven. There was a light in the ferry-house window opposite which streamed across the road and threw into more sombre shadow a dark yew-tree with graves beneath it. There was a dull sound of falling water not far off, and the leaves of the old tree stirred gently in the night wind. It seemed like quiet music for the repose of the dead.

Sunbury was passed through, and they came again into the lonely road. Two or three miles more, and the cart stopped. Sikes alighted, took Oliver by the hand, and they once again walked on.

They turned into no house at Shepperton, as the weary boy had expected, but still kept walking on, in mud and darkness, through gloomy lanes and over cold open wastes, until they came within sight of the lights of a town at no great distance. On looking intently forward, Oliver saw that the water was just below them, and that they were coming to the foot of a bridge.

Sikes kept straight on until they were close upon the bridge, then turned suddenly down a bank upon the left.

“The water! thought Oliver, turning sick with fear. “He has brought me to this lonely place to murder me!

He was about to throw himself on the ground, and make one struggle for his young life, when he saw that they stood before a solitary house, all ruinous and decayed. There was a window on each side of the dilapidated entrance, and one story above but no light was visible. The house was dark, dismantled, and, to all appearance, uninhabited.

Sikes, with Olivers hand still in his, softly approached the low porch and raised the latch. The door yielded to the pressure, and they passed in together.