Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the fifth chapter of Great Expectations.

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Today we'll be continuing Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.

Chapter Five the apparition of a file of soldiers ringing down the buttons of their loaded muskets on our doorstep caused the dinner party to rise from table in confusion, and caused Mrs.

Jo re entering the kitchen empty handed, to stop short and stare in her wondering lament of gracious.

Goodness gracious me, what's gone with the pie?

The Sergeant and I were in the kitchen when Mrs.

Jo stood staring, at which crisis I partially recovered the use of my senses.

It was the Sergeant who had spoken to me, and he was now looking round at the company with his handcuffs invitingly extended towards them in his right hand and its left on my shoulder.

Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, said the sergeant, but as I have mentioned at the door to this smart young shaver, which he hadn't, I'm on a chase.

In the name of the King, and.

I want the blacksmith.

And pray, what might you want with him?

Retorted my sister, quick to resent his being wanted at all, Mrs returned to the galleon.

Sergeant, speaking for myself, I should reply the honor and pleasure of his fine wife's acquaintance.

Speaking for the King, I answer a little job done.

This was received as rather neat in the sergeant insomuch that Mr.

Pumblechuk cried audibly.

Good again.

You see, blacksmith, said the sergeant, who had by this time picked out Joe with his eye.

We've had an accident with these and I find the lock of one of them goes wrong and the coupling don't act pretty as they're wanted for immediate service.

Will you throw your eye over them?

Joe threw his eye over them and pronounced that the job would necessitate the lighting of his forge fire and would take nearer 2 hours than one.

Will it then?

Will you set about it at once, blacksmith?

Said the off hand sergeant, as it's.

On His Majesty's service and if my.

Men can bear a hand anywhere, they'll make themselves useful.

With that he called to his men who came trooping into the kitchen one after another and piled their arms in a corner.

And then they stood about as soldiers do now with their hands loosely clasped before them now resting a knee or a shoulder now easing a belt or a pouch now opening the door to spit stiffly over their high stalks out into the yard.

All these things I saw without then knowing that I saw them.

For I was in an agony of apprehension but beginning to perceive that the handcuffs were not for me and that the military had so far got the better of the pie as to put it in the background.

I collected a little more of my scattered wits.

Would you give me the time?

Said the sergeant, addressing himself to Mr Pumblechuk as to a man whose appreciative powers justified the inferience that he was equal to the time.

It's just gone 02:30.

That's not so bad, said the sergeant.

Reflecting even if I was forced to.

Halt here nigh 2 hours.

That'll do.

How far might you call yourselves from the marshes hereabouts?

Not above a mile, I reckon.

Just a mile, said Mrs Joe.

That'll do.

We begin to close in upon him about dusk.

A little before dusk.

My orders are that'll do.

Convict, Sergeant?

Asked Mr Wapsel in a matter of course way.

Aye returned the sergeant, too.

They're pretty well known to be out on the marshes still and they won't try to get clear of them before dusk.

Anybody here seen anything of such game?

Everybody myself accepted, said no with confidence.

Nobody thought of me.

Well, said the Sergeant, they'll find themselves trapped in a circle, I expect, sooner than they count on.

Now, blacksmith, if you're ready.

His Majesty the King is joe had got his coat and waistcoat and cravat off and his leather apron on and passed into the forge.

One of the soldiers opened its wooden windows, another lighted the fire, another turned two at the bellows.

The rest stood round the blaze, which was soon roaring.

Then Joe began to hammer and clink, hammer and clink, and we all looked on.

The interest of the impending pursuit not only absorbed the general attention but even made my sister liberal.

She drew a pitcher of beer from the cask for the soldiers and invited the sergeant to take a glass of brandy.

But Mr Pumblechuk said sharply give him wine, Mum.

I'll engage there's no tar in that.

So the sergeant thanked him and said that as he preferred his drink without tar, he would take wine if it was equally convenient.

When it was given him, he drank His Majesty's health and compliments of the season, and took it all at a mouthful and smacked his lips.

Good stuff, a sergeant said Mr Pumblechuk.

I'll tell you something, returned the sergeant.

I suspect that stuff's of your providing.

Mr Pumblechuk with a fat sort of laugh said, Aye.

Why?

Because, returned the sergeant, clapping him on.

The shoulder, you're a man that knows what's what.

Do you think so?

Said Mr Pumblechuk with his former laugh, have another glass with you.

Hob and knob, returned the sergeant.

The top of mine to the foot of yours.

The foot of yours to the top of mine.

Ring once, ring twice.

The best tune on the musical glasses.

Your health.

May you live a thousand years and.

Never be a worse judge of the right sort than you are at the present moment of your life.

The sergeant tossed off his glass again, and seemed quite ready for another glass.

I noticed that Mr Pumblechuk in his hospitality, appeared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, but took the bottle from Mrs Joe and had all the credit of handing it about in a gush of joviality.

Even I got some.

And he was so very free of the wine that he even called for the other bottle and handed that about with the same liberality when the first was gone.

As I watched them, while they all stood clustering about the forge, enjoying themselves so much, I thought what a terrible good sauce for a dinner my fugitive friend on the marshes was.

They had not enjoyed themselves a quarter so much before.

The entertainment was brightened with the excitement he furnished.

And by now, when they were all in lively anticipation of the two villains being taken, and when the bellows seemed to war for the fugitives, the fire to flare for them, the smoke to hurry away in pursuit of them, Joe, to hammer and clink for them, and all the murky shadows on the wall to shake at them in menace as the blaze rose and sank and the red hot sparks dropped and died.

The pale afternoon outside almost seemed, in my pitying, young fancy to have turned pale on their account.

Poor wretches.

At last Joe's job was done, and the ringing and roaring stopped.

As Joe got on his coat, he mustered courage to propose that some of us should go down with the soldiers and see what came of the hunt.

Mr Pumblechuk and Mr Hubble declined on the plea of a pipe in lady society, but Mr Wapsel said he would go if Joe would.

Joe said he was agreeable and would take me if Mrs Joe approved.

We never should have got leave to go, I'm sure but for Mrs.

Joe's curiosity to know all about it and how it ended and it was, she merely stipulated if you bring the boy back with his head blown to bits by a musket, don't look to me.

To put it together again.

The sergeant took a polite leave of the ladies imparted for Mr.

Pumblechukus from a comrade though I doubt if he were quite as fully sensible of that gentleman's merits under arid conditions as when something moist was going.

His men resumed their muskets and fell in.

Mr.

Wapsel, joe and I received strict charge to keep in the rear and to speak no word after we reached the marshes, when we were all out in the raw air and were steadily moving towards our business, I treasonably whispered to Joe, I hope Joey shan't find them.

And Joe whispered to me, I'd give.

A shilling if they had cut and run.

Pip.

We were joined by no stragglers from the village for the weather was cold and threatening, the way dreary the footing, bad darkness coming on, and the people had good fires than doors and were keeping the day.

A few faces hurried to glowing windows and looked after us, but none came out.

We passed the finger post and held straight onto the churchyard.

There we were stopped a few minutes by a signal from the sergeant's hand while two or three of his men dispersed themselves among the graves and also examined the porch.

They came in again without finding anything, and then we struck out on the open marshes through the gate at the side of the churchyard.

A bitter sleet came rattling against us here on the east wind, and Joe took me on his back.

Now that we were out upon the dismal wilderness were they little thought I had been within eight or 9 hours and had seen both men hiding.

I considered for the first time with great dread if we should come upon them, would my particular convict suppose that it was I who had brought the soldiers there?

He had asked me if I was a deceiving imp and he had said I should be a fierce young hound if I joined the hunt against him.

Would he believe that I was both imp and hound in treacherous earnest and had betrayed him?

It was of no use asking myself this question now.

There I was on Joe's back, and there was Joe beneath me, charging at the ditches like a hunter and stimulating Mr.

Wapsel not to tumble on his Roman nose and to keep up with us.

The soldiers were in front of us, extending into a pretty wide line with an interval between man and man.

We were taking the course I had begun with and from which I had diverged in the mist.

Either the mist was not out again yet or the wind had dispelled it under the low red glare of sunset.

The beacon and the gibbet and the mound of the Battery in the opposite shore of the river were plain though all of a watery lead of color.

With my heart thumping like a blacksmith at Joe's broad shoulder I looked all about for any sign of the convicts.

I could see none.

I could hear none.

Mr.

Wapsel had greatly alarmed me more than once by his blowing and hard breathing but I knew the sounds by this time and could disassociate them from the object of pursuit.

I got a dreadful start when I thought I heard the file still going.

But it was only a sheepbell.

The sheep stopped in there eating and looked timidly at us.

And the cattle, their heads turned from the wind and sleet stared angrily as if they held us responsible for both annoyances.

But except these things and the shudder of the dying day and every blade of grass there was no break in the bleak stillness of the marshes.

The soldiers were moving on in the direction of the old Battery and we were moving on a little way behind them when all of a sudden we all stopped.

For there had reached us on the wings of the wind and rain.

A long shout, it was repeated.

It was at a distance towards the east, but it was long and loud.

Nay, there seemed to be two or more shouts raised together if one might judge from a confusion in the sound.

To this effect, the sergeant and the nearest men were speaking under their breath when Joe and I came up after another moment's listening.

Joe, who was a good judge, agreed, and Mr.

Wapsel, who was a bad judge, agreed.

The sergeant, a decisive man, ordered that the sound should not be answered but that the course should be changed and that his men should make towards it at the double.

So we slanted to the right, where the east was and Joe pounded away so wonderfully that I had to hold on tight to keep my seat.

It was a run indeed now and what Joe called in the only two words he spoke all the time a winder down banks and up banks and over gates and splashing into dikes and breaking among coarse rushes.

No man cared where he went.

As we came nearer to the shouting it became more and more apparent that it was made by more than one voice.

Sometimes it seemed to stop altogether, and then the soldiers stopped.

When it broke out again, the soldiers made for it at a greater rate than ever, and we after them.

After a while we had so run it down that we could hear one voice calling Murder.

And another voice convicts.

Runaways.

Guard.

This way for the runaway convicts.

Then both voices would seem to be stifled in a struggle and then would break out again.

And when it had come to this, the soldiers ran like deer, and joe, too.

The sergeant ran in first when he had run the noise quite down, and two of his men ran in close upon him, and their pieces were cooked and leveled when we all ran in.

Here are both men, panted the sergeant, struggling at the bottom of a ditch.

Surrender, you two, and confound you for two wild beasts.

Come.

Asunder water was splashing and mud was flying, and oaths were being sworn, and blows were being struck when some more men went down into the ditch to help the sergeant and dragged out separately my convict and the other one.

Both were bleeding and panting and execrating and struggling.

But of course, I knew them both directly, mind, said my convict, wiping blood from his face with his ragged sleeves and shaking torn hair from his fingers, I took him.

I give him up to you, mind that.

It's not much to be particular about, said the sergeant.

It'll do you a small good, my man, being in the same plight yourself.

Handcuffs there.

I don't expect it to do me any good.

I don't want it to do me more good than it does now, said.

My convict with a greedy laugh.

I took him.

He knows it.

That's enough for me.

The other convict was livid to look at, and in addition to the old bruised left side of his face, seemed to be bruised and torn all over.

He could not so much as get his breath to speak until they were both separately handcuffed, but leaned upon a soldier to keep himself from falling.

Take notice, guard.

He tried to murder me were his first words.

Tried to murder him, said my convict disdainfully.

Try and not do it.

I took him and I give him up.

That's what I done.

I not only prevented him getting off the marshes, but I dragged him here, dragged him this far on his way back.

He's a gentleman, if you please, this villain.

Now the hulks has got its gentleman again through me.

Murder him.

Worth my while, too, to murder him when I could do worse than drag him back.

The other one still gasped.

He tried he tried to murder me.

Bear bear witness.

Looky here, said my convict to the sergeant single handed.

I got clear of the prison ship.

I made a dash and I'd done it.

I could have got clear of these death cold flats likewise.

Look at my leg.

You won't find much iron on it if I hadn't made the discovery that he was here.

Let him go free.

Let him profit by the means, as I found out.

Let him make a tool of me afresh and again, once more.

No.

No.

If I had died at the bottom.

There and he made an emphatic swing at the ditch with his manacled hands.

I'd have held to him with that grip that you should have been safe to find him in my hold.

The other fugitive, who was evidently in extreme horror if his companion repeated, he tried to murder me.

I should have been a dead man if you had not come up.

He lies, said my convict with a fierce energy.

He's a liar born, and he'll die a liar.

Look at his face.

Ain't it written there?

Let him turn those eyes of his on me.

I defy him to do it.

The other, with an effort at a scornful smile which could not, however, collect the nervous working of his mouth into any said expression, looked at the soldiers and looked about at the marshes and at the sky, but certainly did not look at the speaker.

Do you see him, pursued my convict?

Do you see what a villain he is?

Do you see those groveling and wandering eyes?

That's how he looked when we were tried together.

He never looked at me.

The other, always working and working his dry lips and turning his eyes restlessly about him far and near, did at last turn them for a moment on the speaker with the words you're not much to look at, and with a half taunting glance at the bound hands.

At that point my convict became so frantically exasperated that he would have rushed upon him but for the interposition of the soldiers.

Didn't I tell you, said the other convict then, that he would murder me if he could, and anyone could see that he shook with fear, and that there broke out upon his lips curious white flakes like thin snow.

Enough of this parlay, said the sergeant.

Light those torches.

As one of the soldiers who carried a basket in lieu of a gun went down on his knee to open it.

My convict looked round him for the first time and saw me.

I had alighted from Joe's back on the brink of the ditch when we came up and had not moved since.

I looked at him eagerly when he looked at me and slightly moved my hands and shook my head.

I had been waiting for him to see me, that I might try to assure him of my innocence.

It was not at all expressed to me that he even comprehended my intention, for he gave me a look that I did not understand, and it all passed in a moment.

But if he had looked at me for an hour or for a day, I could not have remembered his face ever afterwards as having been more attentive.

The soldier with the basket soon got a light and lighted three or four torches and took one himself and distributed the others.

It had been almost dark before, but now it seemed quite dark, and soon afterwards very dark.

Before he departed from that spot, four soldiers standing in a ring fired twice into the air.

Presently we saw the other torches kindled at some distance behind us, and the others on the marshes, on the opposite bank of the river.

All right, said the sergeant.

March.

We had not gone far when three cannon were fired ahead of us with the sound that seemed to burst something inside my ear.

You're expected on board, said the sergeant to my convict.

They know you're coming.

Don't straggle my man close up here.

The two were kept apart and each walked surrounded by a separate guard.

I had hold of Joe's hand now, and Joe carried one of the torches.

Mr.

Wapsel had been for going back but Joe was resolved to see it out, so we went on with the party.

There was a reasonably good path now, mostly on the edge of the river with a divergence here and there where a d*** came with a miniature windmill on it and a muddy sluice gate.

When I looked round, I could see the other lights coming in after us.

The torches we carried dropped great blotches of fire upon the track and I could see those two lying smoking and flaring.

I could see nothing else but black darkness.

Our lights warmed the air about us with their pitchy blaze and the two prisoners seemed rather to like that as they limped along in the midst of the muskets.

We could not go fast because of their lameness and they were so spent that two or three times we had to halt while they rested.

After an hour or so of this traveling we came to a rough wooden hut and a landing place.

There was a guard in the hut, and they challenged, and the sergeant answered.

Then we went into the hut where there was a smell of tobacco and whitewash and a bright fire and a lamp and a stand of muskets and a drum and a low wooden bedstead like an overgrown mangle without the machinery capable of holding about a dozen soldiers all at once.

Three or four soldiers who lay upon it in their great coats were not much interested in us but just lifted their heads and took a sleepy stare and then lay down again.

The sergeant made some kind of report and some entry in a book.

And then the convict, whom I call the other convict was drafted off with his guard to go on board first.

My convict never looked at me except that once, while we stood in the hut, he stood before the fire looking thoughtfully at it or putting up his feet by turns upon the hob and looking thoughtfully at them as if he pitied them for their recent adventures.

Suddenly he turned to the sergeant and.

Remarked I wish to say something respecting this escape.

It may prevent some persons laying under suspicion along, or me.

You can say what you like, returned.

The sergeant, standing coolly, looking at him with his arms folded.

But you have no call to say it here.

You have opportunity enough to say about it and hear about it before it's done with.

You know.

I know but this is another pint, a separate matter.

A man can't starve.

At least I can't.

I took some whittles up at the village over yonder, where the church stands most, out on the marches.

You mean stole, said the sergeant.

And I tell you where from.

From the blacksmiths.

Hello, said the sergeant, staring at Joe.

Hello, Pip, said Joe, staring at me.

It was some broken whittles, that's what it was.

And a dream of liquor and a pie.

Have you happened to miss such an article as a pie, blacksmith?

Asked the sergeant confidently.

My wife did at the very moment when you came in, don't you know, Pip?

So, said my convict, turning his eyes on Joe in a moody manner and without the least glance at me.

So you're the blacksmith, are you?

Then I'm sorry to say I've eaten your pie.

God knows you're welcome to it as far as it was ever mine, returned.

Joe with the saving remembrance of Mrs.

Joe.

We don't know what you have done, but we wouldn't have you starved to.

Death for it, poor miserable fellow creature.

Would us pip.

Something that I had noticed before clicked in the man's throat again, and he turned his back.

The boat had returned and his guard were ready.

So we followed him to the landing place made of rough stakes and stones, and saw him put into the boat, which was rowed by a crew of convicts like himself.

No one seemed surprised to see him, or interested in seeing him, or glad to see him, or sorry to see him, or spoke a word, except that somebody in the boat growled as if to dogs, give way, you.

Which was the signal for the dip of the oars.

By the light of the torches we saw the black hulk lying out a little way from the mud of the shore like a wicked Noah's ark, cribbed and barred and moored by massive rusty chains.

The prison ship seemed in my young eyes to be ironed like the prisoners.

We saw the boat go alongside, and we saw him taken up by the side and disappear.

Then the ends of the torches were flung hissing into the water and went out as if it were all over with him.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time Books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlisle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Great Expectations.

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