Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

CHAPTER II.

The Mail (the coach that carried the post, and passengers with it)

It was the Dover road (the main road from London to the port of Dover) that lay, on a Friday night late in November, before the first of the persons with whom this history has business (the storyteller says outright that this man is the first character who matters. Watch him). The Dover road lay, as to him (as far as he was concerned), beyond the Dover mail, as it lumbered (moved heavily and slowly) up Shooter’s Hill (a steep hill on the road out of London). He walked up hill in the mire (deep wet mud) by the side of the mail, as the rest of the passengers did; not because they had the least relish (the slightest liking) for walking exercise, under the circumstances (the conditions they were in), but because the hill, and the harness (the leather straps that tie horses to a coach), and the mud, and the mail, were all so heavy, that the horses had three times already come to a stop, besides once drawing the coach across the road, with the mutinous intent (a plan to refuse and turn back) of taking it back to Blackheath (a place on the London side of the hill). Reins and whip (the straps used to steer the horses, and the long cord used to drive them) and coachman (the man who drives the coach) and guard (the armed man riding at the back to protect the post), however, in combination, had read that article of war (an army rule; the joke is that the men simply overpowered the horses instead of arguing) which forbade (would not allow) a purpose otherwise strongly in favour of the argument (the horses' own plan to turn the coach round, which would have shown they could think), that some brute animals (animals, not people) are endued with Reason (able to think); and the team (the horses pulling together) had capitulated (stopped resisting and obeyed) and returned (went back) to their duty.

With drooping (hanging down) heads and tremulous tails (the long hair behind them shaking), they mashed their way through the thick mud, floundering (struggling to stay upright) and stumbling between whiles (now and then), as if they were falling to pieces at the larger joints (as if their legs were coming apart at the knees). As often as (every time that) the driver rested them and brought them to a stand (made them stop), with a wary (careful, watching for trouble) “Wo-ho! so-ho-then! (a driver's calls telling horses to stand still)” the near leader (the front horse on the left of the pair) violently shook his head and everything upon it--like an unusually emphatic (forceful, making its point) horse, denying that the coach could be got up the hill. Whenever the leader made this rattle (this shaking noise of the harness), the passenger started (the passenger jumped in fright), as a nervous passenger might, and was disturbed in mind.

There was a steaming mist (a fog rising like steam) in all the hollows (the low dips in the ground), and it had roamed in its forlornness (wandered about, lost and unhappy) up the hill, like an evil spirit (the fog given a will of its own, like a restless ghost), seeking rest and finding none. A clammy (cold and damp to touch) and intensely (very) cold mist, it made its slow way through the air in ripples (in small waves, like water) that visibly (so that you could see it) followed and overspread (spread out over) one another, as the waves of an unwholesome (unhealthy) sea might do. It was dense (thick) enough to shut out (block) everything from the light of the coach-lamps (the oil lamps fixed to the coach) but these its own workings (except for the fog's own moving shapes), and a few yards of road; and the reek (the steam and smell) of the labouring horses (the horses working hard) steamed into it, as if they had made it all.

Two other passengers, besides the one, were plodding (walking slowly and heavily) up the hill by the side of the mail. All three were wrapped to the cheekbones (the bones under the eyes) and over the ears, and wore jack-boots (heavy leather boots reaching above the knee). Not one of the three could have said, from anything he saw, what either of the other two was like; and each was hidden under almost as many wrappers (cloths wound round the head and neck against cold) from the eyes of the mind (what each man could guess about the others), as from the eyes of the body, of his two companions. In those days, travellers were very shy of being confidential (slow to tell a stranger anything private) on a short notice (to someone they had only just met), for anybody on the road (because anybody on the road) might be a robber (a man who takes by force) or in league with robbers (working together with men who rob). As to the latter (about the second kind, the men who helped robbers), when every posting-house (an inn where coaches changed horses) and ale-house (a place selling beer, like a small pub) could produce somebody in “the Captain’s (a nickname for the leader of a robber gang)” pay, ranging from the landlord (the man who ran the inn) to the lowest stable non-descript (the lowest of the men working round the horses, with no proper job of his own), it was the likeliest (the most probable) thing upon the cards (the most likely thing of all). So the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) of the Dover mail (the coach that carried post and passengers to the port town) thought to himself, that Friday night in November, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, lumbering (moving heavily and slowly) up Shooter’s Hill (the steep hill on the road out of London), as he stood on his own particular (his own, that nobody else used) perch (the high seat at the back of the coach) behind the mail, beating his feet (stamping his feet to keep them warm), and keeping an eye (watching closely) and a hand on the arm-chest (the box of weapons) before him, where a loaded blunderbuss (a short gun with a wide mouth, fired at close range) lay at the top of six or eight loaded horse-pistols (big guns of the size a rider keeps on his horse), deposited on a substratum (a layer underneath) of cutlass (a short heavy sword).

The Dover mail was in its usual genial position (the word means warm and friendly, and what follows is the opposite: everyone on the coach suspects everyone else. Read it as a joke against them) that the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) suspected the passengers, the passengers suspected one another and the guard, they all suspected everybody else, and the coachman (the man driving the coach) was sure of nothing but the horses; as to which cattle (about which animals — the horses) he could with a clear conscience (honestly, knowing he was telling the truth) have taken his oath (sworn to it) on the two Testaments (the two halves of the Bible, sworn on in court) that they were not fit for the journey.

“Wo-ho! (a driver's call telling horses to stop)” said the coachman (the driver). “So, then! One more pull and you’re at the top and be damned to you (a curse thrown at the horses in anger), for (because) I have had trouble enough to get you to it (it was hard work getting you up this hill)!--Joe (a name the driver shouts)!”

“Halloa! (a shout back, like “yes?”)” the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) replied.

“What o’clock do you make it (what time do you say it is), Joe?”

“Ten minutes, good, past eleven (a full ten minutes past eleven).”

“My blood! (an oath of frustration, like “damn it”)” ejaculated (said suddenly) the vexed (annoyed) coachman (the driver of the coach), “and not atop (on top) of Shooter’s (Shooter's Hill, the one they are climbing) yet! Tst! (a click of the tongue at the horses) Yah! (a shout to make the horses go) Get on with you (keep moving)!”

The emphatic (making its point firmly) horse, cut short by the whip (stopped by a flick of the lash) in a most decided negative (a very firm no), made a decided scramble (a rush with slipping feet) for it, and the three other horses followed suit (did the same). Once more, the Dover mail (the coach that carried post and passengers to the port) struggled on (kept moving forward with difficulty), with the jack-boots (heavy boots reaching the knee) of its passengers squashing (making wet sucking noises in the mud) along by its side. They had stopped when the coach stopped, and they kept close company with it. If any one of the three had had the hardihood (daring) to propose to another to walk on a little ahead into the mist (the thick fog) and darkness, he would have put himself in a fair way of getting shot (would very likely be shot) instantly (at that moment) as a highwayman (a robber on horseback who stopped travellers and took their money).

The last burst (the last hard push by the horses) carried the mail (carried the mail coach) to the summit (the top) of the hill. The horses stopped to breathe again, and the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) got down to (climbed down from the coach in order to) skid the wheel (put a block under a wheel so it cannot turn on the way down) for the descent (the way down), and open the coach-door to let the passengers in.

“Tst! (a short hissing sound to get someone's attention quietly) Joe (the guard riding at the back of the coach)!” cried (called out) the coachman (the man driving the coach) in a warning voice, looking down from his box (the driver's high seat at the front).

“What do you say, Tom (the man driving, sitting up on the high front seat)?”

They both listened.

“I say a horse at a canter (a gentle run, slower than a horse's fastest speed) coming up, Joe (the guard riding at the back of the coach).”

“I say a horse at a gallop (a horse's fastest run), Tom (the driver of the coach),” returned (answered) the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), leaving his hold of the door (letting go of the door), and mounting (climbing back up) nimbly (quickly and lightly) to his place. “Gentlemen! In the king’s name (a formal order given with the king's authority), all of you!”

With this hurried (quick) adjuration (a serious command), he cocked (pulled back ready to fire) his blunderbuss (his short wide-mouthed gun), and stood on the offensive (stood ready to attack).

The passenger booked by this history (the passenger this story is following), was on the coach-step (the step for climbing into the coach), getting in; the two other passengers were close behind him, and about to follow. He remained on the step, half in the coach and half out of; they remained in the road below him. They all looked from the coachman (the driver) to the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), and from the guard to the coachman, and listened. The coachman looked back and the guard looked back, and even the emphatic (the head-shaking) leader (the front horse of the team) pricked up his ears (his ears went up because he was listening) and looked back, without contradicting (and this time he did not shake his head to say no).

The stillness (quiet without movement) consequent on (following from) the cessation (the stopping) of the rumbling (deep rolling noise) and labouring (the heavy struggling of the coach) of the coach (the large closed carriage pulled by horses), added to the stillness of the night, made it very quiet indeed. The panting (breathing hard) of the horses communicated (gave) a tremulous motion (a shaking movement) to the coach, as if it were in a state of agitation (nervous and upset, the way a frightened person shakes). The hearts of the passengers beat loud enough perhaps to be heard; but at any rate (anyway), the quiet pause was audibly (loud enough to hear) expressive of (showing) people out of breath, and holding the breath, and having the pulses (the beats of their hearts) quickened (went faster) by expectation (waiting for something to happen).

The sound of a horse at a gallop (a horse's fastest run) came fast and furiously (wildly and fast) up the hill.

“So-ho! (a shout meaning: stop there!)” the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) sang out (shouted), as loud as he could roar (shout loudly). “Yo there! (hey, you there!) Stand! (stop where you are!) I shall fire!”

The pace was suddenly checked (the speed suddenly dropped), and, with much splashing (water and mud flying up) and floundering (struggling in the mud), a man’s voice called from the mist (the fog), “Is that the Dover mail?”

“Never you mind (that is not your business) what it is!” the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) retorted (answered sharply). “What are you? (who are you?)”

“Is that the Dover mail?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I want a passenger, if it is.”

“What passenger?”

“Mr. Jarvis Lorry (a person's full name, spoken out of the fog).”

Our booked passenger showed in a moment that it was his name. The guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), the coachman (the driver of the coach), and the two other passengers eyed him distrustfully (as if they did not trust him).

“Keep where you are,” the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) called to the voice in the mist (the thick fog), “because, if I should make a mistake, it could never be set right (put back the way it was) in your lifetime (the years you have left to live). Gentleman of the name of Lorry (you, the gentleman named Lorry) answer straight.”

“What is the matter?” asked the passenger, then, with mildly quavering (gently shaking) speech. “Who wants me? Is it Jerry (a man whose voice he thinks he knows)?”

(“I don’t like Jerry’s voice, if it is Jerry,” growled (said in a low angry voice) the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) to himself. “He’s hoarser (rougher in the throat) than suits me, is Jerry (rougher than I like — I mean Jerry).”)

“Yes, Mr. Lorry.”

“What is the matter?”

“A despatch (an urgent written message) sent after you from over yonder (from over there). T. and Co. (short for the bank's name, Tellson and Company)”

“I know this messenger (this man sent with a message), guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach),” said Mr. Lorry, getting down into the road (climbing down out of the coach onto the road)--assisted from behind more swiftly than politely (a joke: the words say the others helped him out, quickly rather than kindly; really they pushed him out in a hurry) by the other two passengers, who immediately scrambled (climbed in a hurry) into the coach (a large closed carriage pulled by horses), shut the door, and pulled up the window (closed the window by raising the glass). “He may come close; there’s nothing wrong.”

“I hope there ain’t (I hope nothing is wrong), but I can’t make so ‘Nation (a rough swear word here meaning “very”) sure of that,” said the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), in gruff (rough and low) soliloquy (talking aloud to himself). “Hallo (hey) you!”

“Well! (said sharply, as if annoyed) And hallo (hey) you!” said Jerry (the man on the horse who carries messages), more hoarsely (in a rough, dry voice) than before.

“Come on at a footpace (walk your horse towards me)! d’ye mind me (do you hear me)? And if you’ve got holsters (leather cases on a saddle for carrying guns) to that saddle (the seat strapped on a horse) o’ yourn (of yours), don’t let me see your hand go nigh (near) ’em. For I’m a devil at a quick mistake (because I am all too quick to get it wrong), and when I make one it takes the form of Lead (my mistake comes out as a bullet: I shoot). So now let’s look at you.”

The figures of a horse and rider (the man on the horse) came slowly through the eddying (swirling) mist (fog), and came to the side of the mail (the mail coach, not letters), where the passenger stood. The rider stooped (bent down), and, casting up his eyes (raising his eyes to look) at the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), handed the passenger a small folded paper. The rider’s horse was blown (out of breath from hard running), and both horse and rider were covered with mud, from the hoofs (the hard feet of a horse) of the horse to the hat of the man.

“Guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach)!” said the passenger, in a tone of quiet business confidence.

The watchful (watching carefully) guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach), with his right hand at the stock (the wooden shoulder-piece of a gun) of his raised blunderbuss (the short wide-mouthed gun), his left at the barrel (the metal tube of a gun), and his eye on the horseman (the man on the horse), answered curtly (in a short, cold way), “Sir.”

“There is nothing to apprehend (to fear). I belong to Tellson’s Bank (a London bank, the one he works for). You must know Tellson’s Bank in London. I am going to Paris (the capital of France, across the sea) on business. A crown to drink (a coin as a tip, to buy himself a drink). I may read this?”

“If so be as (if) you’re quick, sir.”

He opened it in the light of the coach-lamp on that side, and read--first to himself and then aloud: “‘Wait at Dover for Mam’selle (the whole message, and it tells nothing more. Dover is the port where boats leave for France; the French word means “Miss”, but which woman, and why she matters, is not said).’ It’s not long, you see, guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach). Jerry (the man who rode up on the horse), say that my answer was, RECALLED TO LIFE (called back to life; brought back from the dead. Why he sends this answer, and what it means, the chapter does not say).”

Jerry started in his saddle (jumped where he sat). “That’s a Blazing (a mild swear word, like “very”) strange answer, too,” said he, at his hoarsest (roughest in the throat).

“Take that message back, and they will know that I received this, as well as if I wrote (just as surely as if I had written it down). Make the best of your way (go back as fast as you can). Good night.”

With those words the passenger opened the coach-door and got in; not at all assisted by his fellow-passengers, who had expeditiously (quickly) secreted (hidden away) their watches and purses in their boots, and were now making a general pretence (a false show) of being asleep. With no more definite purpose than to escape the hazard of originating any other kind of action (they pretended to sleep only so that nothing else would start).

The coach lumbered (moved slowly and heavily) on again, with heavier wreaths (curling rings of fog) of mist (fog) closing round it as it began the descent (the road going down). The guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) soon replaced his blunderbuss (his short wide-mouthed gun) in his arm-chest (the box on the coach where the guns are kept), and, having looked to (checked) the rest of its contents, and having looked to the supplementary (extra) pistols (small hand guns) that he wore in his belt, looked to a smaller chest beneath his seat, in which there were a few smith’s tools (tools for working metal, for repairs on the road), a couple of torches (burning sticks used as lamps), and a tinder-box (a box of dry stuff for catching a spark and making fire). For he was furnished (because he was supplied) with that completeness (so completely supplied that) that if the coach-lamps had been blown (the wind had blown the lamps dark) and stormed out (beaten dark by the storm), which did occasionally happen, he had only to shut himself up inside (close himself inside the coach), keep the flint (a hard stone; struck against steel it throws sparks) and steel sparks (tiny bits of fire) well off the straw (far away from the dry bedding on the coach floor, which would catch fire), and get a light (make a flame) with tolerable (reasonably good) safety and ease (safely and without trouble) (if he were lucky) in five minutes.

“Tom (the driver; the guard is calling to him)!” softly over the coach roof.

“Hallo (hello), Joe (the guard riding with the gun).”

“Did you hear the message?”

“I did, Joe.”

“What did you make of it (what did you think it meant), Tom?”

“Nothing at all, Joe.”

“That’s a coincidence (two things happening to match), too,” the guard (the armed man riding at the back of the coach) mused (said thoughtfully), “for I made the same of it myself (because I understood just as little of it as you did).”

Jerry (the man who rode up to the coach on the horse), left alone in the mist and darkness (the fog and the dark), dismounted (got down off his horse) meanwhile, not only to ease (rest) his spent horse (his very tired horse), but to wipe (rub clean) the mud from his face, and shake the wet out (shake the water off his hat) of his hat-brim (the edge round the bottom of a hat), which might be capable of holding about half a gallon (about two litres). After standing with the bridle (the head straps used to steer a horse) over his heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail (the mail coach) were no longer within hearing (near enough to hear) and the night was quite still again, he turned to walk down the hill.

“After that there gallop (that hard fast ride) from Temple Bar (a gateway marking the edge of the City of London), old lady (his own horse, whom he talks to), I won’t trust your fore-legs (front legs) till I get you on the level (on flat ground),” said this hoarse messenger (the rough-voiced man carrying the message), glancing at his mare (his female horse). “‘Recalled to life (called back to life; brought back from the dead. The messenger cannot make sense of it either).’ That’s a Blazing (a mild swear word, like “very”) strange message. Much of that wouldn’t do for you (too much of that kind of work would be bad for you), Jerry! I say (hey, listen), Jerry! You’d be in a Blazing bad way (in very serious trouble), if recalling to life was to come into fashion (became a common thing), Jerry!”