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The English Countryside, 1752
On the third day, Bart was well into his journey. By his reckoning he was in Somerset, on the muddy road between Devizes and Bath. He had taken a bed roll with him so he could sleep at night in his carriage and save the expense money he had been paid. With the large cargo he carried, there wasn’t much room, but it was worth the discomfort.
He woke at dawn to the sound of bantering pheasants in a field nearby. He thought it sounded like the young pheasant chicks playing, reminding their parents to bring some more food.
After a snack of bread and cheese, which was getting pretty stale by now, he decided to get down from the carriage and relieve himself.
As he climbed down, rubbing his aching back, and paused long enough to brew some tea, he added some kindling and lit the fire. Then he walked away from the carriage to find a convenient bush, stretching and yawning as he went.
When he thought he had found the perfect private location, he prepared to relieve his bladder. Suddenly, from a hilly slope behind him, he heard, “Stand and deliver!”
The voice shouted at him in a demanding tone. Robbery by highwaymen was so common, the phrase was almost standardized and the fear of all travelers.
Bart, so surprised he jumped, but was limited in his options. “I wish you wouldn’t do that! You could’a at least waited until I finished my business!”
Bart kept his back to the highwayman until he was more decent. “Now I need to know, are you a common petty thief or a ‘Gentlemen of the Road’?”
As Bart turned around, he lifted his coat to show the highwayman he was unarmed, and as he did so he walked over to his carriage.
“If you are a common petty thief, you can have this ‘ere thing, if you can carry it,” Bart said, pulling the cover from the bell with a dramatic flourish. He had covered it with his sleeping blanket when he woke and left the carriage.
“This bell weighs over 2,000 pounds if you think you can manage,” he added with a grin, beginning to enjoy the irony of the situation.
The highwayman had said nothing to this point and stared at the bell in amazement.
Bart politely continued, “And who might you be, sir?”
The man, who must have been thinking this was the most unusual robbery he had ever attempted, finally snapped to at the question.
“Captain James MacLaine at your service, sir,” he said, with a cavalier sweep of his hat toward Bart. “I must ask your forgiveness; I did not have any notion that I had caught you unawares. I see you about to brew some tea, would you mind if I descended and shared a morning’s refreshment with you?”
Bart was gracious. “I’d be delighted to have some company, sir.”
He busied himself with the tea, and when they were seated and savoring their repast, demanded, “Now, sir, if you please, explain yourself.”
Captain MacLaine obliged, “I was passing through here last night, the sound of your snoring so loud, that I couldn’t but help notice your carriage pulled onto the side of the road. Mistaking you for a man of means, I thought it prudent to wait till morning to relieve you of some of your ill-gotten gains.”
Bart looked his “guest” over. “And you, sir, I would have taken for more of a dandy than a highwayman; you dress with a flourish that would have quite fooled me.”
The Captain finished his tea, smiled, then stood. He looked to his host. “You have been most kind, sir, to offer me refreshments after my crude introduction. If you happen to come across any other miscreants on the way, please inform them that you travel under the protection of Captain James MacLaine.”
Again with a dramatic flair, he bowed to his host. “Thank you for the tea. I see that this is a case of mistaken identity. I bid you good day, sir.”
Within moments, Bart was left with the view of “Gentleman Jim” leaving his camp.