CHAPTER TWO

After a Prisoner

I was frightened all morning that my sister would discover the stolen food, but she was so busy cleaning the house and roasting chickens for Christmas lunch that she did not even notice I had been away, or that anything was missing. Our guests arrived at half past one. The first to arrive was Mr Wopsle, who had a large nose and a shining, bald forehead. He was the church clerk. Mr Pumblechook, the shopkeeper, arrived next. He was a fat, middle-aged man with a mouth like a fish, and staring eyes. He was Joe's uncle but it was only Mrs Joe who called him uncle. He arrived with two bottles of wine, just like he did every Christmas, and handed them proudly to my sister.

"Oh Uncle Pumblechook! This is so kind of you!" she always replied.

"No more than you deserve," was his answer every time.

I would have felt uncomfortable with these guests even if I wasn't worried about stealing food from my sister. Pumblechook's elbow was in my eye, I wasn't allowed to say a single word, and they gave me the worst pieces of meat. These parts of their bodies even the chickens must have been ashamed of when they were alive. Worse than all of this was the constant bothering by the company.

"Before we eat, let us give thanks to God for the food in front of us," said Mr Wopsle, in the same deep voice he used in church.

Just to make me feel worse, my sister whispered, "Do you hear that? Be grateful!"

Mr Pumblechook added, "be grateful, boy, especially to those who brought you up by hand."

"Why are the young never grateful?" asked Mr Wopsle, as if the young made him feel sad.

"The characters of young children are naturally bad," answered Mr Pumblechook. Then all three looked at me.

When guests were at our house, Joe's position was even lower than usual (if that was possible). Still, he always tried to help me and make me feel better. Sometimes he helped me by giving me extra sauce. He did that now.

"Just imagine your life, boy," said Mr Pumblechook, "if your sister hadn't raised you—"

"You better listen," added my sister angrily.

"If, as I say, she hadn't given her life and happiness looking after you, where would you be now?"

Joe gave me more sauce.

"We know how troublesome he was to you, madam," Mr Wopsle understandingly added.

"Trouble?" she cried. "Trouble?!" Then she began to list all my illnesses, accidents and crimes, while her two guests looked at me with fright and disgust. Joe added more sauce to the meat on my plate even though my plate was completely covered in sauce, and I wanted to pull Mr Wopsle's nose.

Finally Mrs Joe stopped for breath and said to Mr Pumblechook, "Have a little wine, uncle. I already have a bottle open."

It was going to happen at last! Now there was no hiding the fact that I had stolen some wine, and put water in the bottle. Before drinking Mr Pumblechook held the wine up to the light, smiled importantly at his glass and drank it. Almost immediately he jumped up and rushed around the room in a strange wild dance. Everyone looked hard at him in great surprise. Was he crazy? I wondered if I might have poisoned him. He fell backwards into a chair, crying "Medicine!" Then I understood what I had done. Instead of filling up the bottle with water, I had accidentally put Mrs Joe's strongest and most unpleasant medicine! That was what was in the big brown bottle.

"But how on earth did my medicine get into that wine bottle?" asked my sister. Luckily for me she had to get poor Mr Pumblechook some hot rum to get rid of the medicine's taste. "And now," she said, once the fat man became somewhat calmer, "you must all try Uncle Pumblechook's present of a really delicious meat pie!

"That's right, Mrs Joe!" agreed Mr Pumblechook. "A tastier pie you will not find!" I was glad that his pride made him quickly forget the medicine.

"You shall eat some as well, Pip," said Joe kindly.

I knew what was going to happen next. I jumped down from the table, and ran out of the room.

I got as far as the front door when I ran straight into a group of soldiers. As I was standing there Mrs Joe came out of the kitchen saying, "The pie—has gone!" Then she stopped when she saw the soldiers.

"Excuse me for disturbing you on this fine day, ladies and gentlemen," said the officer in charge. "I'm here in the name of the King, and I want the ironworker."

"Why do you want him?" said my sister angrily.

The officer must have thought it a good idea to first calm Mrs Joe. "Madam," he replied politely, "speaking for myself, I'd like to have the pleasure of meeting his fine wife. But the King would like him to repair these." The officer gave Joe a pair of handcuffs for prisoners.

"Ah, very good, very good!" said Mr Pumblechook, for no particular reason.

The soldiers decided to wait in the kitchen while Joe made the fire ready for work. I was feeling much better now that everyone had forgotten the missing pie.

"How far are the wetlands from us?" asked the officer.

"About one mile," replied Mrs Joe.

"That's good. We'll catch those prisoners before dark."

"Prisoners, officer?" asked Mr Wopsle.

"Yes, two escaped prisoners out on the wetlands. Any sign of them?"

The others all shook their heads and thankfully, no one bothered to ask me. When the handcuffs were repaired, Joe suggested we go with the soldiers to help them. Mrs Joe was curious to know what happened so she agreed to let us go. So Joe, Mr Wopsle and I followed the soldiers out onto the wetlands.

"I hope we don't find any prisoners, Joe," I whispered.

"I hope not too, Pip," he whispered back. It was starting to get dark and a cold, east wind was blowing from the sea.

Suddenly we heard shouts in the distance.

"This way! Quickly!" ordered the officer, and we all ran in that direction. The shouts became clearer and louder. "Murder!" "Escaped prisoners!" "Help!" At last we saw two men in the distance fighting one another. One was the prisoner I had helped, and the other was the man who ran away from me when I woke him up near the wooden building. Somehow the soldiers managed to break the men apart and put the handcuffs on them.

"Here he is, the murderer. I'm holding him for you!" shouted my prisoner.

"Officer, he tried to murder me!" shouted the other man. His face was cut and he was bleeding.

"Murder him! No," said my prisoner, "that would be too easy. I want him to suffer back on the prison-ship. He's a liar, and he lied at our trial! You can't trust Compeyson!"

Then he noticed me standing with the soldiers. I shook my head at him to let him know I hadn't told the soldiers about him. He just looked hard at me, and I was unsure whether he would say anything or not.

The prisoners were taken by the soldiers to the river bank. There was a boat there waiting to take them back to the prison-ship. Just as he was getting into the boat, my prisoner said, "Officer, after I escaped I stole some food from the ironworker's house. Bread, cheese, wine and a meat pie. I'm sorry I ate your pie, ironworker."

"I'm glad you did," replied Joe. He was so kind of heart. "We wouldn't want you dying of hunger, even if you are a prisoner."

The prisoner looked deeply touched by Joe's words and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. We watched him until he boarded the prison-ship and disappeared. I thought that would be the last I would ever see of him.

(end of section)